Journey Through the Past
by bgreer
Summary: Grissom must battle his past in order to return an escaped convict to prison.
1. Chapter 1

Journey Through the Past

Journey Through the Past

Chapter 1

Gil Grissom slowly slid down the wall. He was holding his Glock, its magazine now empty, and the world seemed to float in and out of focus. It seemed like hours since he and Sara had entered the warehouse. The dead man lay some 20 feet from him, and Gil had lost all track of time, when in reality, it had only been but a few minutes.

Captain Jim Brass and two uniformed officers cautiously approached the entrance to the warehouse. Everything was strangely quiet and still. Peering into the semi-darkness of the abandoned warehouse, the seasoned detective could make out a crumpled figure lying in a pool of blood and immediately called for an ambulance and CSI. Knowing that Grissom's team of CSI's would be arriving soon, Brass also ordered the uniforms to call for additional backup and to secure the scene quickly. Holding his Glock in front of him, Brass quickly and quietly entered the warehouse. Scanning the scene, his eyes fell upon Grissom sitting against the wall. The two officers with the captain secured the scene as Brass made his way over to Grissom. Gris did not acknowledge the presence of his friend or of the officers but stared with glazed eyes at the man lying in the pool of blood.

"Gil…" Brass crouched down next to Grissom and gently took the gun from his friend's hand. "Gil…" Grissom was apparently in shock, and Brass quickly examined Grissom for injuries. Blood was seeping down his shirt from his shoulder. Bruises were forming on Grissom's face, and Brass noticed that Gil's knuckles were swollen, bruised, and scraped. The injured man turned his head slowly towards Brass and his dark blue eyes seem to slowly come into focus. Swallowing hard, Grissom licked his lips and attempted to get up"Brass…Jim…Where's Sara?...She was here. She brought you here, right? Is she ok? She came with you, right?"

Ignoring the questions, Captain Jim Brass pushed his friend gently down and said in a low voice, " Gil…the paramedics will be here soon. You were shot. Just rest easy for right now…."

Grissom gazed down his front and watched in wonder at the spread of blood that was oozing down his shirt and pooling on to the floor. "No, I'm ok….I'm fine," he croaked.

Looking at Brass with intense eyes, "Jim, dammit, I need to know…" he hissed.

"Gil, she's not here. We tried to get here as soon as we could when she radioed in. I told her to leave the scene. She said that you were in trouble and that she couldn't leave you…She's not here Gil, but I have guys searching…" Jim examined his friend's battered face and wondered how to tell him that Sara was nowhere to be found.

"What do you mean you have guys looking for her? You don't know where she is? She's got to have gotten away. She was with me. I told her to leave …" His voice started to rise and panic started to overcome him. Grissom, again, struggled to stand up, but Brass gently held him down.

"C'mon, Buddy. The EMT's are here to look at you…Catherine will be here with the rest of the team….they'll start to process the scene…let's take care of you…"

"No…Jim…she has to be okay. I sent her to get help and so that she would be safe. We were trapped …."

"Gil, you can't help her now. Besides, knowing Sara, she's probably following a lead. She's tough. You know that…" However, Brass also knew that Sara never would have left Grissom if he were in trouble. Her disappearance had him worried. Jim hurried on, "We're doing everything possible. The area is being combed. Catherine will be here…you know she'll find anything that is to be found. She can't do that if she has to worry about you. Let her do her job."

"Hey, Gil. We got it covered," came the soft voice behind Jim Brass. Squinting to clear his vision, Grissom caught a blurred vision of Catherine Willows, her worried frown breaking into a weak smile as she gently touched his arm to reassure him.

Grissom reluctantly nodded and clenched his teeth as Brass backed out of the way so that the EMT's could take over. He shut his eyes and shuttered from the white hot pain that was coursing through his body. Hands quickly checked the gunshot wound to his shoulder and for other injuries. Nausea washed over him, and he fought to keep the bile down. He hissed as hands quickly probed his wounds.

"Sorry, Dr. Grissom…but we gotta see where you're at…." Grissom's jaw tightened, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

"GSW to the left shoulder…contusions and abrasions upper torso and face…broken left wrist…possible concussion…white male, early fifties- bp 96 /68 ….pulse thready and weak…patient is conscious ….We're loading him on the bus now ….should arrive 5-10 minutes tops. IV started….Roger that."

Grissom felt himself being quickly loaded onto a gurney. Dizziness swept over him as he fought to keep the darkness from enveloping him.

Jim Brass and Catherine Willows watched the paramedics load the CSI graveyard shift supervisor into the ambulance.

"Jim, do know why Gil and Sara were here in the first place? What the hell is going on?"

Brass just shook his head. " I got a panicky call from Sara. She gave me the location and said that Gil was in trouble. I told her to get the hell out of here, but she said that she couldn't leave him. The last I heard were shots fired and the call ended. Whatever Gil was doing here was under the radar and somehow Sara found out about it. There isn't a whole lot that he can keep from her."

"Yeah, well, the guys and I have our work cut out for us. Damn that man," Catherine sighed in frustration.


	2. Chapter 2

Journey Through the Past

Author's note: This chapter was not beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 2

Catherine Willows sighed with relief as the ambulance pulled away. Turning to the young CSI standing behind her, she directed him to start taking photos of the scene.

Greg Sanders nodded. He paused before snapping pictures of the blood-splattered wall before him, realizing that the blood was probably Grissom's.

Catherine walked over to the body that lay several feet away from where Brass had found Gil. A young black male in his mid-twenties was shot in the chest multiple times. The bullets appeared to entered the body with inches of each other. He had evidently been in a fight because of the bruising on his face and hands. She assumed that Grissom had shot the young man. She knew the night shift supervisor was an expert marksman, having proven his prowess with a revolver at the shooting range. He usually scored highest for the entire department in marksmanship.

She wondered what prompted Grissom to carry his weapon, let alone fire it. In all the years she had worked with him, he rarely carried his weapon. Jim Brass often chided him for not having his department-issued firearm when investigating crime scenes.

Turning back to where Grissom was found against the wall, Catherine glanced back and forth between where Gil was and where the body now lay.

"Greg, what do you see? Run it."

The rookie CSI took a deep breath. "Well, I think this guy ambushed or, at least, attacked Grissom. Looking at the blood splatter and the scuff prints, it looks like Grissom was grabbed from behind. Grissom fights back and falls against the wall. This guy starts to grab him, but Griss is able to push him away and reaches for his weapon. This guy draws his weapon first and shoots at Grissom, but Grissom's shot hits the guy first. So the guy's aim is off and Grissom is shot in the shoulder. More shots are fired at Grissom by the looks of the ricochet and the bullet holes in the wall. Grissom, on pure adrenaline, empties his Glock."

Catherine stared at the scene, trying to envision what had taken place. Where was Sara in all this? Both Grissom and Sara were here together. Something happened which caused them to split up. If there was any hint of danger, Grissom would have waited for back up. True, he has entered crime scenes that were not necessarily secured, but that was when he was alone. He wouldn't have done that if Sara was with him. Something was off.

"I think that initially you're right. Griss was physically assaulted and he ended up against the wall. He was shot in the shoulder. Brass said that Grissom's Glock was empty. Greg, there was at least one other person here. Maybe at least two other people. Otherwise, where would Sara be?

The young investigator nodded his head in agreement. "Griss must've killed this guy and someone else shot Grissom," speculated Greg as he snapped off a few more pictures."

" I dunno, Greg. Maybe. Process and fingerprint everything. Send everything to the lab asap. Let's see if we can figure out what went on here. I'll go to Desert Palm. Maybe Grissom will be able to tell us something. He is also evidence. Let's see what physical evidence he might have on him. Hopefully he'll remember and can fill in the holes."

Hearing footsteps entering the warehouse, Catherine turned to see a grim-looking Nick Stokes with his kit. He headed right over to where Greg and Catherine were standing.

"Hey. Have you found anything around the perimeter?" inquired Catherine as she slowly straightened up.

"Some shoeprints, which we took pictures and impressions of. Tire tracks too….looks like someone took off in a hurry. There was a bit of struggle. Vegetation was disturbed and Warrick is measuring both the tire tracks and shoeprints. An SUV or truck by the looks of the tracks. Once we run those, we should be able to narrow the field. There were at least four different sets of shoeprints."

" Okay. So at least two other persons were here if we include Sara. our DB, and assuming that none of those prints are Gil's. What about Griss's Denali? What's going on there?" inquired Catherine.

"On my way to do that next. Sofia did a preliminary look over. Brass is interviewing possible witnesses. Apparently, two kids might be witnesses. No sign of Sara. Sofia found some blood splatter around the driver's seat. Sara's Denali is parked half a block down the street. I'll process that next, " Nick replied grimly.

Catherine gave Nick a questioning look. "Sara's Denali is parked down the street? They didn't come together, and I'm betting Grissom had no idea she was following him. There are more questions here than answers. I'm headed over to Desert Palm. I'll let you guys know what's going on with Grissom. He took some nasty blows to the head, along with a gunshot wound to his shoulder." Catherine noticed Nick's look of concern and reassured him. "Griss is going to be ok, but he'll be a handful as long as Sara's missing. One of us is going to have to be with him for a while to make him behave," she said. With that, Catherine walked quickly to her Denali and headed for the hospital.

Catherine entered Trauma Room 3 and paused momentarily. Grissom had sustained numerous injuries, but none of them were life-threatening. An IV was hooked up and the soft beep of the monitor indicated a steady heartbeat. Catherine stared at the still form of her friend.

Dr. Jay Taylor appeared next to Catherine.

"I'm Dr. Taylor, Mr. Grissom's attending. How can I help you?"

"Yes, Dr. Taylor. I'm Catherine Willows with the crime lab and was wondering about the condition of your patient here. What is the prognosis?"

"Well, Mr. Grissom sustained a fractured left wrist, 4 cracked ribs on the right side, and two on the left side. He also suffered a minor concussion. Even though he has bruising about his face, there are no broken bones. The back of his hands, his knuckles, were severely bruised."

"Defensive wounds," murmured Catherine.

Nodding, Dr. Taylor continued, "His left shoulder sustained a gunshot wound, and it appears that the bullet entered through the front and exited out the back. It's a clean wound, no organs or major blood vessels hit. We were able to stop the bleeding and patch the wound. Some blood loss but not enough to warrant a transfusion. He'll just be weak until his body is able to replace the loss. Right now, he is awaiting surgery to set his wrist. Nothing life-threatening really. He'll just need time to heal."

Catherine nodded. "Thanks. I'll need his clothes so that we might recover any trace evidence. I would also like to check his body for any trace that might be left under his nails or in his wounds. I will also need all the gloves, swabs, etc. you and your staff used on Mr. Grissom so that we might examine those for trace."

"All materials are in a bio-hazard bag and I will have both the bag and his clothes delivered to you. He won't go upstairs for surgery for a few minutes while the OR is being prepared so I see no problem for you to process him right now. I doubt that he is aware of his surroundings. He was given a sedative for the surgery."

"Was he conscious when he was brought in? Did he say anything?"

"Yes he was conscious, but not the most cooperative patient I've had. He had to be strapped down in order for us to work on him. He kept saying that he couldn't stay. That he had to find someone named Sara. We just now took off the restraints."

Catherine nodded with a rueful smile. That was Gil…stubborn to the core.

"Yeah, well, he sort of hates hospitals."

"Oh, you know him, then?"

"Oh, yeah…almost too well. But you really don't want to know… Well thanks, Doc. I better get to processing." With a smile and a nod, Dr. Taylor left Catherine to her task.

Catherine walked quickly over to the gurney holding Grissom. Opening her kit, she pulled on latex gloves and took out the necessary instruments and materials to process any evidence that was still on Gil's body. She gently picked up his right hand and carefully scraped any evidence that was trapped under his nails. She spoke quietly to him as she went about her work, letting him know each procedure she was performing, knowing that he probably couldn't hear her. She moved quickly and quietly around the gurney. She winced at the bruising around his face and gently swabbed the cuts and bruises. She photographed his injuries and paid special attention to the bruising on the backs of his hands and knuckles. Moving the hospital gown gently down so that his torso was uncovered, Catherine quickly snapped off pictures of the bruises and contusions that surrounded both sides of his rib cage. Sighing, she finished the processing of Grissom's upper body and then tenderly covered him back up. It seemed surreal processing Grissom in this manner. Through the process, Grissom seemed to be oblivious to Catherine's ministrations.

_Soft rustling sounds entered his consciousness. He felt like he was floating in soft cotton. The smell of antiseptic was strong, and he heard the beeping of a monitor. Hospital... in the hospital…Someone was murmuring something but Grissom was too exhausted to react or try to figure out who was talking. The voice was vaguely familiar. He tried to concentrate on the voice...like a mother trying to soothe her child… there was something he needed to do, but everything was so fuzzy. There was something waiting for him in the far reaches of his consciousness. He felt each of his hands being gently handled and then slight pressure being applied to different parts of his face…like soft cotton being tenderly rubbed softly against the bruises he could feel…and then the realization slowly dawned on him…Catherine was with him and was swabbing him for evidence. He fought to open his eyes.._

A soft moan escaped Grissom's lips. Catherine looked up, surprised. Grissom cracked open his eyes to narrow slits and turned his head slightly in her direction.

"Hey there big guy…"

"Cath..wha…" came the hoarse whisper. Grissom tried to chase the cobwebs from his mind and formulate the words he wanted to say. The words seemed to be all a jumble. His eyelids felt like lead weights were on them, so he shut his eyes.

"Shh..shh….just lay still. You're scheduled for surgery in a few minutes."

"Surgery? Cath…What….." Grissom shook his head, trying to clear away the confusion. The medication was making everything foggy. _Something about Sara…what about Sara?_

"To set your wrist…you're pretty banged up. So just take it easy. Don't fight the meds. You won't win."

Grissom nodded slightly and closed his eyes tighter and settled back against the pillow. The haziness was creeping its way through his thoughts preventing him from thinking straight or from remembering what he wanted to ask Catherine. _Sara! She was missing_. He tried to raise his good hand, but it felt like a lead weight. A dull pain coursed through his body and he let his arm drop heavily. "Sara…."

"Griss…I'm done here. I'm taking this evidence to the lab. I'll be back. Let these guys take care of you. Some one will be here to check on you. Rest easy, ok? The rest of the team and I are taking care of things. We'll find Sara." Catherine patted his arm and packed up her kit. There was no response from Grissom as the medication took him back under.

An orderly and nurse entered the room and quickly wheeled the gurney out. Dr. Taylor appeared at the door and turned to Catherine.

"The surgery should take no more than 2 to 3 hours tops. We'll take good care of him. The waiting room is up on the second floor. After recovery, we'll be assigning him a room. I don't see a need for him to stay more than a day or so. None of his injuries are life-threatening. He will be sore from his injuries and weak from the blood loss, but his recovery should be complete. I would like to keep him longer for observation. However, if he hates hospitals as much as you say, he might be able to go home tomorrow, provided that he has complete bed rest and is not left alone."

"Thanks, Dr. Someone will be here to check on him," Catherine said. She turned and left for the lab.


	3. Chapter 3

Journey Through the Past

A/N: A big thank you to CSIGeekFan for beta'ing this piece and for the encouragement.

Journey Through the Past

Chapter 3

Warrick Brown closely examined the tire tracks. On the ground surrounding the tracks, among the weeds, he found a rock about the size of a grapefruit and almost as smooth. Carefully he picked up the heavy stone and stared at the bloody fingerprints. Brown swabbed a part of the stone and confirmed the presence of human blood. _Now whose blood could this be? Girl, this better not be your blood…. _He quickly bagged the stone for processing and then stood up, surveying the rest of the scene. _Sara, where could you be? _

Sensing his presence, Warrick turned around to find Nick approaching him. "What did you and Sofia find out about Griss's Denali? For that matter, anything probative with Sara's?"

"Swabbed the blood on the driver's side and lifted fingerprints from Grissom's…most likely Grissom's or Sara's, but you never know. Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll be one of the perps. There's blood on the outside of the driver's door and just inside the left side of the seat and along the inside of the door. Whoever was here took her though. I'd bet my bottom dollar. We dusted Sara's Denali for prints and any other trace, but no blood evidence. Both are being towed back to the lab garage for further processing. What about you?"

Warrick gathered the evidence he had collected and stood up. "There was definitely a struggle out here. Looks like there were four perps by the different sets of shoeprints. Four large sets, mens'12 or 13's, I think. A fifth set, much smaller. A woman's most likely and since Sara is missing… Whoever was here left in a hurry. Let's check with Greg to see what he has come up with."

Inside the warehouse, Greg had yellow markers spread throughout the crime scene where blood spatter had occurred and where he found shell casings. He was taking pictures and carefully sweeping the area for trace evidence.

"Greg, what have you covered?" inquired Warrick, scanning the area.

Greg looked up from his bent position. "I was spiraling out. I haven't really covered much outside the initial scene. I've picked up some fibers and hair. There are shell casings. These by the wall look like they are from Grissom, and the shell casings over by the body look like they might match the bullet fragments in the wall. Ballistics will confirm that. I noticed additional casings near those crates near the far wall and that door when I first looked over the scene. I also noticed some bullet fragments near the door closest to where the Denali was parked. I haven't dusted any of those crates or the doors."

"Ok, let's finish up here. The sooner we can get everything to trace and to the lab, the sooner we'll get a handle on where Sara could be and what happened here," Warrick replied. He and Nick spread out, searching and collecting evidence.

The smell of antiseptic and the stiffness of the sheets over him told him he was in the hospital. The slight itch on the back of his right hand indicated an IV. Grissom took a deep breath. Pain radiated from both his sides and he groaned softly…_Deep breaths-not a good idea…meaning broken or cracked ribs…_He felt the tightness of the wraps around his torso keeping his ribs in place, protecting them from further injury.

"Gil.."

Grissom turned his head to the direction of the voice. A sharp pain shot through his head. _Ok, don't move the head too quickly…definitely something going on there._ His eyelids felt heavy as he squinted his eyes to see a concerned Jim Brass standing over him. Licking his lips, Grissom whispered a rough, "Hey.."

"So I hope you feel better than you look, cuz' you look like hell…" Jim said softly.

"Thanks….everything's real hazy ..so what's …." Grissom mumbled. He closed his eyes and carefully tried to shift position. Movement was a painful proposition. _Ok, no movement at all._ _That's the ticket…_

"Well, the doc says that you do have a mild concussion and cracked ribs. You might be a little sore for a while. You're on some pretty good meds, too. You're in recovery right from surgery. I was able to get pass the nurses and sneak in."

"You don't say….anything else?"

"Yeah, a fractured left wrist and a gunshot wound through your left shoulder. Your face is one massive bruise."

Grissom cracked open one eye, barely, and sighed. "So what happened to me? Did I do much damage to the semi?"

"You don't remember? Tell me what you do remember and I'll fill in the rest, ok?"

"Just flashes and bits and pieces. Wasn't alone. A warehouse? But, don't remember why I was there…Sara was with me, but..umm….she shouldn't have been there…she..." Grissom shut his eyes and tried to grasp the wispy memories that were just beyond his reach.

"Look, Gil. You've sustained a slight concussion and they've given you some heavy duty meds, so everything is bound to be a bit hazy. I just stopped by to see how you were doing. We'll talk in a little while after your head clears a little, ok?" Brass said quietly, as he laid a hand of his friend's uninjured shoulder. " Just take it easy and everything will come back to you. Don't try fighting the meds."

_Don't fight the meds? Where had he heard that before? Somewhere in the not so distant past..._Grissom nodded. At least he thought he did, as Jim's voice suddenly seemed to come from a great distance and he drifted into unconsciousness.

Sara struggled against her bonds. Griss had been investigating the seemingly abandoned warehouse, when he realized too late that she had followed him there and that a trap had been laid. He tried to minimize the damage. It had almost worked too. She had almost gotten away to get help, but she just couldn't leave him by himself. Sara tried once again to loosen the ropes that tied her wrists and legs together. Blood oozed from her lip, and she winced as the truck hit another bump. Where were they taking her? Her situation caused her to have more questions than answers. The frightened captive had to figure a way to escape, but visions of Grissom kept popping through her head.

Grissom had been fighting desperately to occupy the men so that she could escape, but he was outnumbered and completely overwhelmed. Sara had made it to his Denali when she heard shots fired. She had managed to call Brass on her cell to tell him the situation and was ordered to flee the scene.

"Sara, get the hell out of there! I'm on my way. The only way you can help Gil now is to get your ass out of there. Sara, I said now!."

"Brass, Griss is outnumbered. Oh god, Jim, shots have been fired…I can't leave him.."

Before Sara knew it, as she was climbing out of the driver's seat to help Griss, she was grabbed from behind. Sara fought desperately, latching on to the seatbelt harness and then the steering wheel. The slim brunette was bruised and bleeding when she was roughly tossed on the ground. Strong hands wrenched her arms behind her and pushed her face into the gravel of the dirt parking lot.

Sara struggled mightily against her attacker. She kicked and bucked in an effort to get away, but the man who had her was bigger and stronger. He dragged her around the building to the SUV that she had spotted earlier near the end of the building. The struggling CSI bit him when he tried to clamp a meaty hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Sara tasted his blood as she broke the skin and heard with satisfaction a yelp of pain. But that feeling of satisfaction was short-lived as she paid the price for that action. She was struck across the head with something hard and let out a grunt of pain, having been stunned into submission.

In her semiconscious haze, Sara felt herself being lifted into the back of the SUV and tossed in. Struggling to regain her bearings, she felt her arms and legs being bound and duct tape being placed over her mouth. She shook her head to clear it, but only succeeded in causing a wave of pain to sweep through her head. _Ok, I'm not doing that again. God, Brass get to Grissom! _ She heard the back of the SUV slam shut and felt the truck peel out of the gravel lot away from an injured Grissom.

A/N: Thanks for those who posted reviews and keep posting them. I will get back to you. So what do you all think? Should I keep going?


	4. Chapter 4

Journey Through the Past

A/N: Thanks again to CSIGeekFan for the suggestions and for beta'ing this for me.

Chapter 4

Grissom was slowly making his way back to the land of the living. He became aware of soft murmurings and the quiet shuffle of footsteps. Turning his head towards the sounds he heard, Gil licked his lips and let out a soft sigh. He opened his eyes to see the smiling face of who he assumed was his doctor.

"Hey there….welcome back. How are you feeling? I'm Dr. Taylor and I'm your attending. "

"Groggy…everything's a little hazy. Desert Palm? How long have…"

"Yes, you're at Desert Palm and you were brought in late yesterday afternoon. It's mid morning, and you've been drifting in and out. I was the surgeon on call and so was able to set your fractured wrist and patch up your shoulder wound. What do you recall?"

Gil swallowed. " Nothing really…"

"Well, that's not unusual. Concussions are a tricky business. You sustained a pretty good blow to the head. Actually several good blows to the head. Temporary amnesia is not uncommon. Of course, we did have you sedated. Now, I do want to examine the contusions on your face, especially the one around your left eye."

"What else? It hurts to move much."

Dr. Taylor carefully explained to Grissom the extent of his injuries and what was done medically. The night shift supervisor would recover in due time barring any complications.

"Complications such as…?"

"Well, now that would be up to you. I strongly recommend complete bed rest until those ribs heal up. With those cracked ribs, physical activity could result in a punctured lung should you do something to cause one of them to break completely. Your head will ache for a while even though your concussion is pretty mild. Your memory of what happened to you should come back, but don't worry if it doesn't. It's your mind's way of protecting you. You just need to rest and let your body heal. But I've heard that you are a little on the stubborn side…you don't particularly like hospitals…."

"So, if I promise to be good…..when?" inquired Grissom as his head started to clear.

"I will only release you if there will be some one with you to take care of your needs. My preference would be complete bed rest here in the hospital. However, after speaking with a couple of your colleagues who have come by, I don't think that is likely," Dr. Taylor replied dryly.

"I'll make sure he's a good boy, doctor," replied Catherine with a smile, as she walked into the room. "In fact, the whole graveyard shift is planning to run shifts to babysit our boy here."

"Ahhh...Ms. Willows, I see that you are back. I will have to see the results of the last blood panel, and if it comes back clear, I don't see why he couldn't be released in the next hour or two." Dr. Taylor headed out the door. "So, sit back and relax, Dr. Grissom. I'll check on those results and get back to you."

Catherine turned to Gil. "So, HOW are you feeling and don't give me any crap about being fine. You can't fool me."

Grissom winced at her tone and said flatly, "Like I've been hit by a Mac truck."

Memories of what happened flooded through him. Quickly switching gears, Grissom anxiously asked, "Where's Sara? She's ok, right? Why isn't she here? Catherine, fill me in on what's going on with the case." He tried to ignore the pounding in his head.

Catherine paused and briefly contemplated how much to reveal to the injured man. She knew Gil well enough that nothing would stop him in trying to find Sara. Catherine also knew that he would blame himself for Sara's disappearance and would also take the blame if anything should happen to her. Sighing, the strawberry blonde investigator sat down next to his bed.

"C'mon Catherine…out with it. Sara's still missing, isn't she? Otherwise, she'd be here and not you," Grissom growled impatiently.

"Gil, the doctor said that…"

"To hell what the doctor said…Catherine…"

"Okay…okay….First, you need to tell me what you do remember and I'll fill in what we have pieced together. Yes, Sara is still missing. Right now, Nick and Warrick are tracking down leads on the suspects' vehicle. Greg is processing evidence through trace and the DNA lab. Right now it's a matter of being a little patient. We'll get her back, Gil. You need to take care of yourself- at least for her sake."

"I can't relax. We don't have the time. Look, this case was personal for me even before Sara was taken. Lucas Mallory is behind this whole thing. From the start, he has been playing me. The warehouse was a trap to lure me for god-knows-what and now he has Sara."

Grissom paused and quietly continued on. "He's not going the hurt Sara, not seriously, anyway. It's me he wants. I don't think that he expected anyone to be with me when I showed up at the warehouse. Hell, Ididn't expect her there either. I think that it threw a wrench into his plans. If Sara weren't so damn stubborn..."

Grissom looked away from Catherine and gazed out the window. "The key is staying a step ahead, but in order to do that, I've got to get out of here…so are you going to help me or not?"

Catherine cast a look of frustration towards him. "Gil…look at you…You're not going to do Sara or the investigation any good the shape that you are in. So let's talk about who's being stubborn. And who the hell is Lucas Mallory? What's the deal with the warehouse? ."

"No one knows Mallory like I do…It started with the two DB's in Henderson the other day. I was pretty sure that Mallory was the perp."

"Whoa! Wait a minute," interrupted Catherine, "You had an idea about who the perp was in that case? That was my case. Look Gil, you broke procedure. You didn't let anyone know about this Lucas Mallory. Who is he anyway? You suspected from that crime scene in Henderson that this guy did it, but you didn't share that information with the team. You didn't trust us with any of this? We've been working blind here. That case has been dead in the water," Catherine shot back angrily.

Grissom could feel anger and impatience rising in him, "Okay, I made a mistake. I let Mallory get in my head. I know what happened the last time I tangled with this guy and I thought I could handle it this time around. Besides, that crime scene was a message to me and only to me. He was sending me a message that he was out of prison and that he had me on his radar. The last time innocent people got caught in the fallout. I didn't want any one on the team to suffer like…" Grissom paused as past memories suddenly flooded over him and he shut his eyes and clenched his teeth.

He sighed, "Look, I know I should have trusted all of you. That's not going to happen again. Catherine, he's got Sara. I won't make the same mistake twice. Trust me in this, okay?"

"Gil…." Catherine relented, holding up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay…what do you want me to do?"

"You still have a key to the townhouse?"

Catherine nodded.

"I will need clothes and my laptop that's in the study. There is also a file next to the laptop that I will need. You'll have to let the sitter know that she has to keep Hank for a few days. Her number is in my rolodex on my desk, next to the lap top."

"Wait a minute. You're not thinking about going to the lab, are you? You're going to work from home if you're doing anything at all. Besides that, if you are home, you'll rest and have a better chance to heal. You're not going to the lab. Besides technically, you're on administrative leave."

Grissom said tightly, "I need to be at the lab. I will rest easier in my office. I promise I will take it easy. At home, I'll just pace and I'll be calling the lab every few minutes. At least at the lab, I can see what's happening." Grissom paused for a moment and then rushed on, "Besides, more than likely Mallory knows where I live. In fact, I think it might be prudent if Brass went with you when you get my things. Mallory might be watching the townhouse. Fill Jim in. The file next to my laptop will fill you in on everything you need to know about Mallory. My townhouse is probably not the safest place anyway. Look, I promise to be good."

Catherine eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, right…Look, I'll be back soon. The point might be moot if your blood panels don't pan out anyway, so just lie back and rest easy for a little while. You're not going anywhere until the doctor releases you. I'm going home to check in on Lindsey. I will also make sure that Jim has a guard outside your door. If Mallory has you on his radar, the hospital isn't exactly the safest place for you either. Maybe Jim can get you set up in a safe house," Catherine said half jokingly.

Grissom arched his eyebrow and lay heavily back down on his pillow. The throbbing in his head had started to worsen and he shut his eyes to concentrate on what the next move

should be.

A/N: Thanks again to all those of you who have reviewed. It really encourages me to get the next chapter up. 


	5. Chapter 5

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 5

Again, special thanks to CSIGeekFan for the beta. Your help has been great!

Chapter 5

David Hodges hunched over his microscope and examined the trace evidence that had been brought in from the warehouse. Confirming his results from the computer readout, he quickly crossed the hall to the layout room where Warrick and Greg were examining photos and fingerprints.

"Blood on the rock matches to Sara's DNA on file," Hodges reported. Both Warrick and Greg looked up and nodded, not surprised. "I did find epithelials on the rock and am running that through CODIS," he continued. "The results should be here momentarily. Some of the blood from Griss's Denali was not Sara's though. Looks like our Ms. Sidle inflicted a little damage on whoever took her. The epithelials and some of the blood from Griss's Denali are a match."

"Good work, Hodges," Warrick said with a nod. "What about the evidence Catherine brought in from the hospital? Anything there?"

"That's next and I'm on my way back to the trace lab to work on Grissom's clothes and the trace," the lab tech replied and left as quickly as he had come.

Turning back to the layout table, Warrick stared at the photos and studied the captured images of the crime scene.

"Bobby reported that the bullets taken from our vic all came from Grissom's Glock, but the bullets that were recovered in the wall behind Griss did not come from the vic's Beretta. From the photos, it looks like the gunshots that were fired at Griss came from these crates near the other door."

"Griss's Glock was empty. He not only fired at the vic, but towards where these bullets were fired from. Have all the recovered bullet fragments been processed?" inquired Greg.

"Bobby's still working on it. We should have the results soon."

Nick Stokes entered the layout room just as his cell phone rang.

"Stokes." Nick answered. After a moment, he hung up and turned to Warrick with a smile. "That was Catherine. Griss is awake and chomping at the bit. She'll be here in a while with Griss in tow." The tall Texan shook his head. "I would have loved to have heard the conversation between her and Grissom. She was none too happy about him coming to the lab, but he must have talked her into it."

Warrick grinned, "I'll take Grissom any day over Catherine. Don't know of anyone who can hold his own in a debate with him. Even on his worse day, he's hard to beat. I'm kinda surprised Catherine didn't have him strapped to a bed in the hospital, but Griss can be pretty persuasive."

"Well, if Grissom is going to be here soon, we had better have something to show both him and Catherine. Hopefully, we can have the profile set up on the body in the morgue and trace might come up with possible suspects," Greg piped in.

Sara woke up with a slight throbbing in her head. Her hands and feet were still bound, but the duct tape had been removed from her mouth. She wriggled around and tried to get to a more comfortable sitting position. Sara had been lying on a mattress pushed in the corner of a small room. Looking around, she took in her surroundings. The room was the size of a small bedroom with a slightly warped wood floor. Except for the mattress that she was sitting on, the room was void of any other furniture. There were two windows, but they were both boarded up. A few dusty rays of sunlight were the only evidence that it was still daylight.

Sara could hear faint voices beyond the closed door. Heavy footsteps indicated that someone was approaching, and she quickly lay back down and shut her eyes as the door creaked open.

"See, Lucas, she's still out. I told Ricky not to hit her so hard with that rock, but the kid never listens to me."

Lucas Mallory, a medium-built man with a short military style haircut, stared at the slender brunette lying on the mattress. "You guys were supposed to bring Grissom, but instead you bring some girl. Maybe we can use her to get to Grissom. You say she was with him before he entered the warehouse? I wonder what she was doing there. At least you didn't waste Grissom. I'll just have to find another way to get my dear friend," Mallory mused more to himself than to his companion.

"Sam, when she wakes up, bring her to me. She might prove useful," growled Mallory. He turned and stalked from the room.

Sam Baker nodded and sighed. It was not a good idea to be on the bad side of Lucas. He had found that out in prison and quickly learned that crossing Lucas tended to be detrimental to one's health, both physically and mentally. In prison, Lucas' sadistic tendencies developed to the point that he was sent to the prison mental health facility for a full evaluation. It was from there that Lucas escaped from the great state of California and made his way into Nevada. Lucas was a genius, but also enjoyed sadistic games in controlling and hurting others. After Sam's release for serving his time of aggravated assault on a police officer, Lucas contacted him. Sam knew better than to turn down Lucas and so had come to Nevada.

He turned from the seemingly unconscious young woman on the mattress and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Sara cracked her eyes open and contemplated her situation. Escape was definitely high on her priority list. Her thoughts turned to Grissom. Brass must have gotten to him in time. She shuddered as she remembered the panic in his eyes as he tried to create a diversion to draw the men's attention away from where she was hidden so that she could sneak out the door and alert Brass. He had sacrificed himself for her and had fought desperately against the two men who had him backed up against the wall. Though older than the two assailants, Grissom held his own against the younger, more strongly built men. She heard the gunfire when she reached the truck, but didn't know whether Grissom had been shot. Sara was relieved to learn that he was still alive, but didn't know how seriously he was injured. Sara needed to find a way out of this predicament before Mallory got to Grissom. The senior CSI would move heaven and earth to find her, which would play right into Mallory's hands.

Grissom rested his head against the cool glass of the passenger seat window as he waited for Catherine to get in the driver's side. He closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness and throbbing in his head would subside. Upon being released from Desert Palm, Grissom promised to get plenty of bed rest. Dr. Taylor prescribed pain medication for the dizziness, pain, and headaches and wanted to see in him in a couple of days to check his progress.

"Gil, your house was clear. Brass has a guard there, and it has been secured. Really, let me take you home. You'll get…." implored Catherine implored softly, only to be cut off.

"No, I'm fine….I'm just bound to be a bit woozy from all the meds they gave me," interrupted the weary scientist. To prove to Catherine that he wasn't as bad off as she thought, Grissom sat up straighter and gave her a wan smile. "See? Good as new….just a few aches and pains is all. Let's just get to the lab and see what the guys have going."

Catherine just shook her head and said, "I've seen corpses that look healthier than you look right now. I just don't think this is a good idea. Besides, you're officially on administrative leave anyway. The lab is supposed to be off limits to you."

Grissom turned his head and gave Catherine a hard stare. "Administrative leave? What for? Is this Ecklie's idea? I feel fine," growled Grissom.

"SOP, Gil, you should know that. First, you fired your weapon and killed a suspect. IA has to review that. Not to mention that you were beaten and shot, which not only requires medical leave but PEAP counseling before you will be cleared for work. So technically, I am violating procedure by taking you to the lab in the first place. My ass will be on the line for even bringing you in."

Grissom just sighed. He had forgotten about all the procedural red tape that would come from this. Damn! "Just take me to the lab anyway. I'll talk to Ecklie, if I see him. In the meantime, I'll just stay in my office. Cath, I promise to keep a low profile, but I have to be in the middle of this. I- I'm responsible for what has happened to Sara."

"You're such a pain in the ass, Gil. You don't know how to keep a low profile. Politic, Gil. Remember, politic? Besides, don't you think I know how much Sara means to you? How much you mean to each other?"

Catherine shot Gil a sidelong glance and smirked at his surprised look.

"Sara and I aren't….I would be doing the same thing if it was anyone else on the team," Grissom tried to explain.

"Save it Gil," Cath said with a wave of her hand. "I've known about you and Sara for a long time. It's been obvious for a while. Look Gil, we've known each other for a long time. You are the closest friend I have. I made a big mistake a long time ago when I hooked up with Eddie. You were always there to pick up the pieces when things went wrong. The only good thing that came of that marriage was Lindsey. I didn't see how much you cared for me back then and I blew it…"

"Cath…you didn't…" Grissom tried to interrupt her flood of words.

"No, you listen. You're special to me and I didn't realize what you meant to me. What you have with Sara is special. I'm not jealous. I'm thrilled for you both. So I understand your need to be in the thick of things," Catherine let out a long breath. "You've always had my back. Well, I now have yours. I will be the lead CSI on this case and I will keep you informed, but you can't 'actively' be involved. You know that. Gil, you play by my rules or I go to Ecklie."

"Catherine…..you'd do that…go to Ecklie," Grissom said softly.

"In a heartbeat…don't push me on this. I won't bend that much."

"Okay, we play by your rules then," Grissom said sinking back into his seat and closing his eyes for the rest of the drive to the lab.

Upon arrival at the lab a few minutes later, Catherine reached over and gently shook Grissom. "Hey Gil, we're here."

Wearily, Grissom opened his eyes and nodded slowly, not wanting to let Catherine know how much his head hurt or how dizzy he felt. Catherine quickly grabbed his laptop and files and hurried around to help Grissom out of the Denali. Gingerly, he lowered himself out of his seat and stood up a bit unsteadily.

"You okay?" Catherine asked worriedly. "Gil, I still don't think this is a good idea. You just got released from the hospital."

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute. I'm fine. I…I just need to get my bearings.." Grissom closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. _ Damn! Forgot about those ribs! No deep breaths._ Wincing, he held his injured left shoulder and wrist close to his injured side and made his way to the entrance of the lab.

Grissom sighed with relief as he entered his office and gingerly lowered himself down in his office chair. At least he had not run into Ecklie; it was the last thing he needed right now. Catherine opened his laptop and laid the file on Mallory next to the computer.

"I'll be back in a sec with the guys. Don't you dare move out of that chair." With that, she turned and quickly left Grissom's office, closing the door behind her.

_Yeah, like I could move out of the chair if I wanted to._ Grissom stared at the closed door and contemplated how much he should reveal to his team. He was determined not to make the same mistakes he had made when he was the coroner in Los Angeles. Memories and guilt started to wash over him, and he rubbed his forehead with his right hand trying to soothe the ache that was still there.

He trusted his team immensely, but he also was protective of them. Grissom remembered the emotional and personal toll he went through in the process of hunting Mallory down and bringing him to justice the first time. He pursed his lips and looked up as Catherine entered his office with Nick, Greg, and Warrick close behind. This was his makeshift family and he cared for each of them more than he cared to admit. Leaning back in his chair, he realized that he also would need them to solve this case. Making his decision, Grissom opened the file on his desk.

A/N: Another chapter is up. Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed. The support and reviews have been much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 6

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Life definitely got in the way. This story is definitely the therapy I need. Anyway, my apologies. Thanks to all of you for hanging in there. BTW, this chapter is unbeta'd, so all the mistakes and goofs are definitely mine!

Gil leaned back in his chair as the rest of his team filed into his office. Quietly, Catherine shut the door and closed the blinds. It wouldn't be good to have Ecklie wander by and see Gil in his office. Nick, Greg, and Warrick quickly took seats in front of Grissom's desk and settled in. Catherine stood behind the guys with her arms crossed, keeping a critical eye on Grissom.

Warrick winced noting his boss's slightly swollen left eye, the sling, and broken wrist. "So how you feelin' Griss?" he ventured tentatively.

"I'm doing okay…just very stiff and sore," understated an exhausted Gil Grissom, as he tried to get into a more comfortable position.

Grissom looked at his team gathered before him and slowly began. "I owe all of you an apology. I should have had more confidence in you guys as a team. I…I..uhh… lost perspective." Shaking his head slightly, Grissom pushed on. "I think some background information will help you understand what we're dealing with. Twenty years ago when I was a coroner with LA County, Lucas Mallory committed a number of murders, all of which involved drugging, torturing, and killing his victims. He's basically a sadistic sociopath with a genius IQ. Most of his victims were young adults, ranging in age from 17-24. He tortured and murdered ten people before he was arrested and sentenced to prison. Mallory was serving a life sentence without parole, but, somehow, about a year ago he managed to escape. His whereabouts were unknown. That is until now. I believe he is here in the Vegas area."

Catherine stared hard at Grissom. "Wait a sec, Gil. Not all of his victims were within the 17 to 24 age range?"

Grissom shut his eyes and swallowed hard and slowly whispered, "Two of his victims were a six month-old baby boy and the boy's mother. The bodies of the mother and son were burned beyond recognition." Grissom closed his eyes and continued on, "The mother was my wife, Rachel, and the boy was our son, Scott."

"Oh, God, Gil…….," Catherine whispered. Nick and Warrick stared back at Grissom in disbelief. Greg sat stone-faced as he watched the pain in Grissom's face turn into sadness and grief.

With a sigh, Grissom continued on. "I...I really haven't shared this with anyone. I had put that part of my life behind me. Brass and Sara are the only ones who know about Rachel and Scott, but they only know that they died in LA. They don't know the circumstances of their deaths." Grissom looked at each member of his team. "Rachel was a CSI, level 2. She was assigned to the Mallory case along with myself and two other CSI's. I was the only who came out alive from that investigation. I left LA soon after the completion of the case."

"Gil, you're too close to this case. Let us handle it. We'll get Sara back and get this guy. Give us your insights and what you know about how this guy operates, but take a backseat. You're too emotionally connected. You've already lost your edge and perspective," Catherine pointed out.

Nick, Warrick, and Greg held their breaths as the tension in the room dramatically rose. Grissom pursed his lips and with an edge to his voice, tightly said, "Catherine, we've already had this discussion. I…I can't back down or out."

"Gil, that was before all this other information came out."

"You know, Buddy, she's right," Jim Brass spoke quietly. No one had noticed Brass slip into the room. "Your edge isn't where it should be. You're in a dangerous place, Gil. As a friend and a colleague, this is not a good idea. You need to step back."

"Jim, you of all people, should understand why I need to be involved," Grissom's anger and impatience starting to rise. "The longer we sit here and discuss whether or not I am on the case, the longer Mallory has Sara, doing God knows what to her."

Sighing, Catherine asked, "So how does the case in Henderson connect back to Mallory?"

In a low voice, Grissom replied, "Mallory's last victims were Rachel and Scott. As I told you, their bodies were burned beyond recognition- the results of an explosion. The victims in Henderson were approximately the same ages as Rachel and Scott. The explosives used in the Baxter case were the same type used in Rachel and Scott's case. The warehouse in Henderson was also similar. I was uneasy about the evidence, hoping that it was all just coincidence. A couple of days later, an envelope was waiting for me at the reception desk. Judy had stepped away from her desk and the envelope was just there. That's why I went to the warehouse…alone. At least, I thought I was alone."

"To what end, Gil? What were you expecting?" Brass asked him incredulously. "Damn it, Gil! You know better. Tell me, why that particular warehouse? How did Mallory get you to agree to this little rendezvous?"

"I don't know what I was thinking. Everything that happened in LA came flooding back. It was like I was in some kind of a time warp and I was back in LA," Grissom said lamely, realizing how stupid it sounded.

"What did Mallory want?" Brass exclaimed.

"Mallory was never charged with Rachel's and Scott's deaths. There wasn't enough evidence to prove that he was behind the explosion. Plus their deaths did not match the MO's of the other murders. He was sentenced to prison for the deaths of the other victims. When Mallory contacted me, he said he had information about the both of them. That they weren't really dead, but that he knew where they were."

"You believed him, Gil? What did he offer you?" Brass exclaimed incredulously.

"He told me he knew where she and Scott were and that if I wanted them back, I should come to the warehouse," Grissom said looking away and realizing how incredibly stupid it all sounded.

"Why was Sara there, Gris?" inquired Nick. "Did she know about Mallory?"

Grissom regarded Nick a moment before continuing on, "Sara has known about Rachel and Scott for some time. When the Baxter case came up, she knew something was off. I can't hide much from her. However, I didn't let her know about Mallory's message, but I guess she was keeping a pretty close eye on me." Looking away from his colleagues who were staring at him over this new revelation, Grissom relayed to the rest of the team how Sara had followed him to the warehouse without his knowledge and how he had desperately tried to get her to leave before Mallory or any of his followers showed up.

"He won't hurt Sara, but he'll use her as bait. The warehouse is similar to the one where we found Rachel and Scott. In fact, upon entering the building, it was like I was back in that time. He fixed it up to look exactly like the one Rachel and Scott were found in before the explosion." Grissom's voice shook slightly, and the throbbing in his head, shoulder, and ribs was starting to intensify. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled the envelope with Mallory's message and slid it into the case file.

Catherine, taking note of Grissom's pallor and pained expression, turned to the men in his office. "Well, guys, it looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Warrick and Nick, take the file from Griss and starting looking for clues about where this Mallory could be hiding out. Greg, I need you to help Hodges with the rest of the evidence and go through everything with a fine toothed comb."

Brass stood up and said, "I will check out my sources on the street. Sophia and Vartann should also be able to get some information from their sources. If Mallory is hiding somewhere in Vegas, something should turn up. We'll need to check who owns that warehouse and the warehouse in Henderson where Marissa Baxter was found."

When the room was cleared, Catherine sat down and studied Gil. Grissom was exhausted and definitely in pain. Leaning back in his chair with his head back and eyes closed, Grissom softly said, "Well, Cath, I really blew it this time, didn't I? I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Sorry that you didn't tell me about your family before or sorry about Mallory? Look, what makes you so sure that he won't hurt Sara?"

Grissom opened his eyes. "Both. I..I just wanted to put that part of my life behind me. Rachel and Scott were the best things that happened to me and they were ripped from me so suddenly. When I realized that Mallory was here in Vegas, everything came flooding back. I thought that I could move on. And I actually had...Sara made me realize that I could love again. Now Mallory has her…God, Catherine, I can't lose her too. I don't know that he won't hurt Sara…It's just a feeling that I have….he's out to get me."

"Gil….We'll get her back," Catherine gently said. Understanding of so many of Grissom's quirks suddenly becoming clear to her- how cases involving small children, especially babies greatly affected him, the anger she clearly saw when dealing with men who abused women. Gil had always stressed to his team about just processing the evidence objectively and not to get personally involved, to not get ahead of the evidence. But occasionally, a case could be a trigger. Catherine remembered the Zachary Andersen case. Grissom rarely showed emotion, but his anger got the best of him over little Zachary's death.

"Gil, lay down and rest for a bit. It will be a little while before we have anything more to work with. We need your perspective on this, but your head has be clear and not fighting fatigue."

Catherine reached into Grissom's jacket pocket and pulled out the pain medication. Handing him the meds and a bottle of water, she made sure that Grissom took the needed drugs. With a weary look and a slight nod, Grissom accepted Catherine's help to his couch where he lay down heavily and slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

To say that Lucas Mallory was frustrated that his plans had gone awry was an understatement. He had wanted Grissom under his control without the authorities being alerted, so that he could take his time carrying out his plans. Now that plan was ripped to shreds. He would have to find another way to get the criminalist.

Mallory decided he would have to move his operation temporarily to an abandoned mining operation some two hours north of Las Vegas now that the authorities were alerted to his whereabouts. Mallory's sadistic nature was the driving force behind everything he did. Twenty years in prison had given him time to think and scheme, and he would not allow a group of cretins, his devoted followers, to ruin things for him. They were fairly easy to manipulate, and he was confident that his plans would eventually work out. Mallory just had to be patient. After all, he had been able to keep Grissom under surveillance for almost a year with no one being the wiser. His contacts in the Vegas area plus the use of a police scanner enabled him to gain information about each of Grissom's team on the graveyard shift. He even had photographs and bios of them.

Sam brought Sara in to Mallory, leading her by her arms that were still bound behind her. He roughly pushed her into the room where she stumbled to her knees. Mallory leered at the slender brunette on the floor and licked his lips. He reached down and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head back. Sara did not look up, but deep inside she was seething. She tried to let the outrage that she felt not reach her eyes.

Mallory considered the woman on her knees before him. He recognized the young csi before him. She had been lying on her side with her back to him when he first saw her in the other room and didn't see her face. _Grissom's woman! _ Lucas grinned in spite of himself. This might work out after all. His original intent was to gain control over Grissom, and then, of course, Grissom's team would be involved.

"Ms. Sara Sidle. Grissom's better half, I see," Mallory said with a grin.

Sara tried to keep the shock from her voice. "How do you know who I am? I..I don't know what you're talking about. Who are you?"

Sara's captor just laughed. "Don't try to act innocent with me. I know that you and Grissom are together. He's quite smitten with you, you know."

"What do you want with him anyway? What could he possibly have or know that would make you want him so badly? Grissom is just a quirky scientist," Sara tried to counter.

"Sara. May I call you Sara?" Not getting a response from his captive, Mallory just smiled and continued, " My name is Lucas Mallory, and the great Dr. Gilbert Grissom and I go way back…all the way back to his days when he was a coroner with LA County.

Mallory looked at Sara and sneered. "Grissom and I have a history together. He has affected my life in ways you couldn't imagine. I'm sure that when he moved here to Vegas, he thought that a change of scenery would put the past behind him and that he could forget our history together. But I have so much I want to share with him. I've learned so much since we last met. Prison can offer one great opportunities for education and growth. I want him to enjoy and appreciate my new found knowledge. You are going to be quite helpful."

Sara shivered involuntarily. She didn't like the sound of that. "Well, I have nothing to do with whatever went on between you and Grissom in the past. Please just let me go. You know he'll come after you. I can convince him to back off if you just let me go," pleaded Sara.

"You know, you remind me of someone else. Did Grissom ever tell you about Rachel? Yes, his lovely Rachel. She pretty much said the same thing. Pleaded with me to let their boy live. Do you know the best part? I got to watch Grissom fall apart. He broke down at the crime scene. Fell right down on his knees and cried," laughed Mallory. "Well, I have even better plans for him this time around."

TBC

Thanks to all who have reviewed. They are much appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A/N: All disclaimers apply. This story is slightly AU. Also, this chapter is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine! Could have taken place sometime during season 8.

_Silence surrounded him. Then he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, Grissom saw Sara coming towards him. Damnit! What was she doing here? Anger and worry flooded through him. _

"_Sara, you have to leave! NOW! This has nothing to do with you…I have to take of this," hissed Grissom._

"_Gil, I absolutely have to be here. I want to help. Please, Gil. Let me help you."_

_The sound of a door creaking open caught their attention. He quickly grabbed Sara and shoved her towards some empty crates stacked near the door they had just entered. "Quickly, Sara, get behind those crates and stay put. Look, if you really want to help me, when you get the chance, get out of here and let Brass know. You understand?"_

"_OK, but I will absolutely kill you if anything happens to you. YOU understand," as she scooted behind the crates._

"_Hey Grissom. It is Grissom isn't it? I was sent here by Mallory. He sends his greetings," a young well-built black man called out. Turning slightly, Grissom observed the young man as he emerged from the far shadows of the warehouse with a gun pointed in his direction._

"_Where's Lucas? This is just between the two of us. If Lucas isn't here, I'm leaving," said a wary Grissom.. _

"_Lucas wouldn't like that. In fact, Lucas thought you might object so some of by buddies came with me to help persuade you to come along," the young man sneered._

_Towards Grissom's right, two more men emerged from the crates that were spread near the far warehouse door. Both men walked slowly towards Grissom, each flexing his hands as if preparing for a fight._

_Slowly, Grissom backed away from the men. He knew that he had to keep these guys busy so that Sara had a chance to escape. _

"_Just who are you and where's Mallory?" he growled, "This is just between Lucas and me…. this wasn't what we had agreed upon."_

_One of the two men near the far door, a blonde with short-cropped hair, scoffed and simply said, "Change of plans. Lucas was delayed and asked us to escort you to him."_

"_No deal," Grissom said flatly. "I'm not going anywhere with you."_

_The two men quickly advanced towards Grissom as he attempted make his way from where Sara was hiding, circling around to the middle of the warehouse, closer to the other occupant with the gun._

"_You really don't have much of a choice. Either you come along peacefully or we do a little physical persuasion," Blond Hair smiled as he swung his fist and connected with Grissom's left eye. Grissom staggered back as stars sparkled across his vision. Swinging wildly, he fought the two young men who were both bigger and stronger.. His only thought was that he had to keep them busy to allow Sara to escape out the door._

_The rest was a blur. Grissom fought desperately and was vaguely aware of shots being fired and a shearing pain in his left shoulder. Staggering back and slamming against the wall behind him, he pulled his Glock from his back, and fired. It seemed that shots were being fired from two different directions, and Grissom fired towards the young black with the gun and then shot towards the far door where he thought the other shots were being fired. Sinking to the floor, Grissom felt and heard footsteps racing around him and voices yelling. Someone was attempting to force him to stand, but he resisted, swinging his hand that held his gun towards the man who had grabbed him. His gun made a connection with the man's head, and Grissom was instantly let go._

"_Forget him for right now. We gotta get that girl before she brings help."_

_Grissom, trying to shake off dizziness, attempted to stand. He managed to gain his feet and staggered a couple of steps back to gain his balance. He only succeeded in falling against the wall._

Waking with a start, he blinked a couple of times, the light from the terrarium that housed his red-kneed tarantula casting a soft glow in his darkened office. Groaning softly, Grissom pulled himself to a sitting position. The pain from his various injuries had settled down to a dull ache. The injured supervisor carefully stood up and then stumbled slowly to his desk. He settled into his office chair and noticed that his cell phone had been placed next to his pain medication. He was sure that his team had already checked the phone logs and processed the instrument.

Grissom looked at his phone and noted the time. He had been out for almost four hours. His thoughts turned to Sara. _Hang in there, babe. The team is working to find you. We'll get to you._

His office door silently swung open and Dr. Al Robbins, the night shift coroner, made his way in.

"Gil, you really should be laying down, preferably, in bed. Nick told me you were out of the hospital and in your office. Thought I'd come down and check you out."

"Thanks Al. I'm okay, really."

"No, Gil, you're not. I just want to make sure you don't end up on a slab in the morgue."

Grissom looked at his friend and gave him a small smile. "I won't. I promise. Can you tell me anything about the body that was brought in from the warehouse? Anything more on Marissa Baxter?

With a look of understanding, Robbins sighed. "The young man who was brought in died of gunshot wounds to the heart. He pretty much died instantly. When you shoot, you don't mess around. Ballistics has the bullet fragments, but it's a foregone conclusion that the bullets came from your weapon. There was GSR present on his right hand that was holding a Berretta. Also a foregone conclusion that you shot in self-defense, but, then again, I haven't been interviewed by IA yet. The young man looks to be in his mid twenties and has a number of tattoos, one of which, looks to be the gang symbol of the 5th Street Knights. I don't have the tox panels back, but he doesn't have any track marks, and he doesn't show any of the usual signs of cocaine use."

Grissom arched his eyebrows. "5th Street Knights and no signs of drug use? That really doesn't make much sense. The Knights are heavily into drug use and one of the biggest distributors in the area. Any idea who this guy is?"

"I can answer that," piped in Brass as he slid through the half open door. Closing the door behind him, the homicide detective proceeded to take a chair next to the coroner.

"According to AFIS, our young gang banger is Jamal Kneeland. He was just released from the Southern Nevada Correctional Facility in Indian Springs a week ago. He served two years for aggravated assault and possession."

"Mallory must have connections either with the 5th Street Knights and/or at the prison," guessed Grissom. "There were at least two other guys in that warehouse. Do we know anything about them?"

"Still waiting for CODIS and AFIS to kick out what the team has processed," reported Brass. "By the way, Gil, Conrad is on the hunt for you, along with the undersheriff. Mckeen wasn't too happy about how this whole thing is unfolding. Your team is lying low about your whereabouts, but, you know, Catherine can't protect you for much longer."

Al Robbins stood up. "Gil, you need anything, you know where I'll be. Don't over do it, all right?"

Grissom just waved his friend off and nodded his head. "Thanks, Al. I'll be careful," he replied. Turning to the homicide captain, Grissom asked, "Anything else I should know about?"

"No. I need to head over to PD. Just wanted to give you an update and see how you were faring," said Jim. "Gil, Sara's going to be fine. She's got a good head on her shoulders. Mallory doesn't know what _he's _got himself into."

"Thanks Jim. I'll be all right when I know that Sara's safe and Mallory is back where he belongs," he sighed.

Catherine checked her cell phone. _Ecklie again. _Taking a deep breath, the senior CSI answered with a gruff, "Willows."

"Catherine. I want to know where Gil is. He's not answering at the townhouse. He left the hospital with you, so where is he?"

"Conrad, I don't suppose you would believe me if I told you that I took him to my house and left him with my mother," she said drily.

"No, I know better. I'm heading over to his office right now, and heaven help him if he is anywhere near the lab. He should be home. Mckeen is beside himself with this thing. A member of Las Vegas Law Enforcement was gunned down, and the media is demanding answers."

"Conrad, if he is in his office, it was without my permission, like he would follow it anyway. I'm not his keeper," Catherine said tightly.

Rounding the corner, Catherine made a beeline for Grissom's office. She opened his office door, intending to make him leave. The nightshift supervisor was no where to be found.

Having been alerted about Ecklie, Grissom decided that it would be better just to talk to Conrad, and get it over with. He made his way slowly through the hallway towards the Assistant Director's office. Upon reaching his office, Grissom caught the tail end of Conrad's conversation with Catherine. He knocked on the door and entered the lion's den.

"Gil, where the hell have you been? As Assistant Director, there isn't much that goes on at this lab that I don't know about. Undersheriff Mckeen wants to talk to you. You have a lot of explaining to do."

"Well, Conrad, that's why I'm here- to get you up to speed," replied Grissom as he settled into a chair across from Ecklie.

"Before you get started, Gil, I think that Jeff Mckeen needs to be here too. He's getting a lot of heat," said Ecklie, as he punched the undersheriff's number.

"Jeff? Yeah, I found him. In fact, he's in my office. Okay. See you in a few." Conrad dropped the phone back into its cradle and regarded the man sitting before him. Grissom had been a thorn in Conrad's side from the very first day Grissom had started at the lab. Conrad could never quite get around the fierce loyalty his team had towards this scientist. Even though Grissom had only been with the lab a few short years, he had been promoted to Night Shift Supervisor after the Holly Gribbs case. Grissom's tenacity in solving cases had raised the Las Vegas lab from fourteenth in the nation to second, right behind the FBI lab in Quantico. Grissom was well-liked by all who worked with him and had the grudging respect of both prosecuting and defense attorneys. Everything about this man rubbed him the wrong way.

"Gil, Jeff will be here in just a minute and then we can get to the bottom of this," Conrad said in his best no nonsense voice.

A few minutes later, Undersheriff Jeff Mckeen entered the Assistant Director's Office. "Grissom, I've seen you looking better. How are you mending?" asked the undersheriff as he took Grissom's hand and shook it.

"I've felt better, but I doing okay," said Grissom warily.

"Grissom, look…I understand there were some unusual circumstances in what went down. I want to hear about everything."

After hearing Grissom's explanation of the case and the relationship between the criminalist and Mallory, the undersheriff sat back and pursed his lips. Grissom brought Mckeen up to speed on what little they had discovered from the evidence that had been collected.

"So, you think that this Mallory fellow has his sights on you? What about Sidle? What are the chances that we'll get her back?" queried the undersheriff.

Grissom paused before making his reply. "I...I don't think that she is in any real danger. She'll probably be roughed up some, but it's me that Mallory wants. I don't have anything concrete that tells me this. This situation has an entirely different feel to it than what happened in LA County. Mallory operated pretty much as a lone wolf back then; he didn't have any accomplices that we were aware of. Mallory has more than just payback in mind. I'm just not sure what it is. The fact that a member of the 5th Street Knights is involved means that he is into elements beyond than just satisfying his own sadistic needs."

Thoughtfully, Mckeen put his fingertips together and came to a decision. "I think you know that you shouldn't be on this case. Obviously, your involvement could compromise the case should we arrest and bring Mallory to trial, and before you object too strenuously, your team will remain on the case. Grissom, you're hands off, but your insights and perspective will be invaluable. To that end, the department needs to keep you safe. I understand that Brass has your townhouse under surveillance. Even with that, I feel that, for the time being, it would be better that you go no where near your home. I will arrange for you to be ensconced in a safe house. You will be escorted there and the house will be under guard 24/7. I will make sure that you are kept in the loop as the evidence is processed and more information comes in. We'll need you to help with this case, but it has to be under the radar."

Grissom arched his eyebrows in confusion. This was not what he was expecting. He realized that the undersheriff would want him to be hands off, but a safe house?

"Okay," said Grissom slowly. "Undersheriff, I think that if I can just stay in my office instead of this safe house, it would expedite matters. I need to be here, close to my team."

"No, Grissom. Not a good idea. Looking down the road, I want to make sure nothing compromises this case. I also want to protect you, not only because you are a witness but because of your importance to this lab. I will have two uniforms here in the next hour or so to take you to your new residence. You stay put until they get here."

Mckeen turned to Ecklie. "Conrad, I want as few people as possible knowing Grissom's whereabouts. I will inform Grissom's team and have a networking system set up for him to communicate with his team." With a nod to both men, the undersheriff stood up and left the office.

Grissom sank back into the chair and sighed. His feelings of guilt and worry were spilling over into his overtaxed mind. He knew that he should be keeping a low profile, but his concern for Sara's welfare and the memories of his past would force him into taking action against the orders of the undersheriff.

Catherine proceeded down the halls of the crime lab unable to find the wayward Night Shift Supervisor. She approached Grissom's office, hoping to find that he had somehow slipped back into his office without anyone noticing. Inside, she found the undersheriff examining Miss Piggy, Grissom's radiated fetal pig.

"Undersheriff? Can I help you?" asked Catherine, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Catherine. I thought you might show up in Grissom's office sometime. I'd like you to call the rest of the team together. I've talked to Grissom, and I've basically put your supervisor on ice for the time being. The team will continue investigating the case on the condition that he stays hands off."

"Wow, sheriff. That must have taken some talking on your part. I'd like some pointers on your techniques of persuasion," said Catherine drily. "Okay, I'll get the guys together, and we'll meet you in the layout room in five minutes."

TBC

_Reviews really encourage me to continue this story and let's me know what y'all think. Please review! Thanks!_

_bgreer_


	8. Chapter 8

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 8

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 8

_A/N: Slightly AU –story takes place sometime during season 8. All disclaimers apply. All mistakes are totally mine!_

Catherine Willows stood with her arms folded as her three investigators, Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, and Warrick Brown, stood around the layout table waiting for Undersheriff McKeen. A part of Catherine was glad that Grissom would not be underfoot as the rest of the team worked on this case. However, she felt somewhat hamstrung because of the fact that he **wasn't **underfoot. So much of Grissom's success in solving cases was his innate ability to see beyond the evidence.

As McKeen entered the layout room, the four investigators focused their attention on the undersheriff. Brass trailed in behind him and took a position next to Catherine. Anger was emanating off of Brass in waves, which caused Grissom's team to glance at one another before turning their attention back on the undersheriff. Noticing this, McKeen knew he would have to tread carefully. Grissom had trained his team well. Briefly making eye contact with each of them, he cleared his throat and began.

"For the time being, I have parked your supervisor in a safe house, both for his own safety and for the integrity of the case. Obviously Grissom is a valuable asset in capturing and putting this Lucas Mallory back where he belongs. To that end, Grissom will be set up with what he needs to see the evidence you have collected and will consult with you. He will have visual and audio hook-ups along with a laptop. The AV lab is getting the equipment together, and it will be set up in a short time. For obvious reasons, his involvement in the investigation has to be under the radar."

Pausing for a moment, McKeen let them absorb this bit of information and then continued. "Obviously the first priority is to get Sidle back safely. I am aware that you all are familiar with the case file on Lucas Mallory and know what kind of situation Sidle is most likely in. However, Grissom seems to feel that she is not in any immediate danger at this point. The concern here is that while Mallory has his focus on Grissom, it seems that he is also into other illegal activities as well. The fact that a member of the 5th Street Knights is mixed up in this probably means that Mallory has connections. As this case unfolds, Catherine, you are to keep me in the loop. That understood?"

Catherine nodded, relieved that Grissom would be available to the team, even if it was on a limited basis. She asked, "Where is this safe house? I understand Grissom not being in the lab, but being able to consult with him face-to-face will help us all in getting perspective and insights."

McKeen just shook his head. "Grissom is being held in an undisclosed location. The fewer who know where he is, the better it will be for all concerned. I know how close you all are, but trust me. I'm not only thinking about the case, but about his safety too. When he's settled and everything set up, he'll be in touch. He is chomping at the bit as much as all of you are. You guys have your work cut out for you. I expect to be getting timely updates as the evidence unfolds."

With that, the undersheriff turned on his heels and left the layout room.

Greg let out a loud sigh and shook his head. "This case is turning from strange to just plain weird. Grissom under wraps? The thought that Grissom would compromise the integrity of a case totally blows my mind. By the way McKeen was talking, you'd think that we couldn't be trusted."

"I tried to convince the undersheriff that a safe house was unnecessary. I know that McKeen is concerned about the department being compromised because of Gedda, but this team can be trusted," seethed an angry Brass who was not used to being kept in the dark.

Warrick nodded in agreement. "Something about this just feels wrong. Is there anyway we can talk to Grissom now? His cell phone has already been processed and was in his office. Do you think he has it with him?"

Catherine shook her head. "Apparently he was or will be issued a new one. I was just in his office and noticed that his meds and gym bag were gone. His cell phone and pager are still on his desk. We've been essentially cut off from him, and I'm a little uneasy about this whole set-up."

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "At any rate, we've got a job to do and a member of the team to find. Nick, check with Wendy about whether CODIS has kicked anything out on those DNA samples. Greg, work with Mandy on those fingerprints that were lifted from the crime scene. I know that most of them were partials, but may be something will show up. Warrick, you're with me. Let's see who holds the titles on those warehouses and if they have changed hands within the last year."

Brass drummed his fingers on the layout table as Nick and Greg left to check on their assignments. "I think it's time I do some old fashioned detective work and hit the streets. The gang unit may have some leads for me." Shaking his head, Brass left the room and headed out to the city of Las Vegas.

Grissom nervously paced the living room of the ranch-style home as he waited for the PD technician who would install the AV equipment. Though it had only been a day and a half since the incident at the warehouse, things seemed to be moving along to a slow crawl. Every minute seemed to stretch out to hours.

The house was a small two-bedroom number located in the northeast part of Las Vegas. It was a nondescript house in a nondescript neighborhood. The open layout of the house allowed the two officers assigned to protect Grissom to sit at the kitchen table playing cards and observe their charge at the same time as he restlessly roamed about the living room.

Glancing at his watch and then at his partner, Officer Carl Jenkins stood up and opened the cabinet where the medication for Grissom had been stored. He took out the prescribed drugs and put them on the counter. Reaching into the cupboard for a mug, Officer Jenkins crushed two tablets from his pocket in the cup and then quickly poured orange juice. Stirring the contents, he picked up the meds from the counter and then sauntered over to Grissom.

"Sir, I'm sure the technician will be here momentarily. The undersheriff was adamant that we make sure that you rest and follow doctor's orders."

Taking the medication and cup of orange juice from the officer, Grissom just smirked and muttered, "Thanks, but I don't need a nursemaid." Sighing, he swallowed the pills, gulped down the juice, and handed the cup back to Jenkins.

"Satisfied Officer Jenkins?" Grissom said glancing at the nametag of the officer.

Jenkins just smiled and took the cup back to the kitchen. Sighing, Grissom sat down on the leather sofa and rubbed his hand through his hair. Shutting his eyes, he tried to focus his thoughts as he held his head in his hands. His head was throbbing again, and the pain from his injuries was starting to intensify.

Jenkins nodded to his partner, Alex Hernandez, to indicate that Grissom had taken all that was given him. Both Jenkins and Hernandez sat down and waited for the drugs to take affect.

Nick Stokes examined the readout that Mandy had handed him and smiled. Finally, a possible break. He quickly walked down the halls of the crime lab in search of Catherine. In the layout room, both Catherine and Warrick were reading over various documents.

"Hey, I think we caught a break. Looks like one of our perps is one Ricardo Lopez, member of the 5th Street Knights and released from Folsom State Prison in California about 2 months ago for distribution and manslaughter. His DNA was found on the rock that had Sara's blood. In addition to that, we have Samuel J. Baker, released from Folsom State Prison 3 months ago, for aggravated assault. His DNA was found in the scrapings from Grissom's nails. Both men were from the same cell block as one Lucas Mallory," reported the tall Texan.

"Well, that gives us a start. Let's give their descriptions to Brass and see what else we've got going. According to what we pulled from county records, both warehouses belong to the same holding company, LH Development Company. My guess is that it is a front company for whatever Lucas Mallory in mixed up in. He seems to be the common link between the two warehouses," commented Catherine.

"The cross-reference I have here on the LH Development Company has a list of properties that the company holds title to. According to the readout, there are three other warehouses and two houses. I'll contact Brass and Sofia so we can check these places out," added Warrick.

"Okay, I need to check in with McKeen, and let him know what's going on. We also need to have Brass issue APB's on Baker and Lopez. Nicky, do we have the last known addresses for our suspects?" asked Catherine.

"Last known addresses were in Sacramento. I'll call Sacramento PD and see how long our guys have been AWOL," replied Nick.

Captain Jim Brass and two uniformed policeman cautiously approached the dilapidated house on the eastside of Las Vegas. The house had definitely seen better days. The windows had been boarded up and the yard was overgrown with weeds and covered in trash. Pulling out his weapon, the police detective signaled for one of the officers to quietly proceed around the back of the house. Looking over his shoulder, he let Catherine and Warrick know that they were to stay back until the building had been secured.

Standing to one side of the door, Brass banged against the door loudly and shouted, "Open up. Las Vegas PD." Waiting briefly, Brass nodded to the officer to break in the door. Officer Dodd nodded and took a step backward before lowering his shoulder against the rickety door. The door splintered open, and both Brass and Dodd cautiously entered the darkened interior of the building.

The dusty living room contained a ratty torn up sofa and little else. Making their way into the kitchen area, Brass took note of the remains of discarded wrappers from a MacDonald's. The veteran detective opened the door in the kitchen that led out to backyard of the house. Officer Dodd's partner, Ted Stanton, entered the kitchen, indicating that no one had exited out the back.

Brass signaled to both Dodd and Stanton to continue clearing the house, and then made his way to the front door, to report to the waiting CSI's.

"Looks like whoever was here left in a hurry," Jim commented. "It hasn't been long since they've left. The footprints on the floor appear to have been made recently, and the remains from their last meal look fresh. I put in a call to have Nick and Greg help you process this site. Sofia reported that there was nothing probative at the house in Henderson."

Nodding, Catherine slid on latex gloves as she and Warrick did a quick walkthrough the house. The back bedroom had a single mattress on the floor. Other than a few chairs, the broken-down sofa, and a bed in the second bedroom, the house was devoid of any furniture. Meticulously, they began the painstaking process of gathering evidence.

Sara felt like she was swimming through Vaseline. Her arms and legs were lead weights as she fought her way to consciousness. Sara felt the cool stone floor against her face as she attempted to open her heavy eyelids. The room was unusually cool, almost chilly. She shivered involuntarily, and opened her eyes, but the pitch black darkness of the room revealed little of the room she was in. Realizing that her hands were no longer bound, slowly Sara sat up, holding the side of her head. Her lip felt swollen and the left side of her face was tender.

As her mind began to clear, she slowly remembered the events that brought her to current predicament. She wondered how long she had been out, as images flashed through her mind.

_On her knees with her hands still bound behind her, Sara listened to Mallory as he shared tidbits of the plans he had for Grissom. His gleeful description of Grissom's breakdown when he discovered the bodies of Rachel and Scott broke Sara's heart. She knew how deeply their deaths cut him and how he had kept those scars deeply buried within himself._ _It had taken months of patience and understanding on Sara's part to get Grissom to open up about his past. Cases that involved the death of children or the abuse of women seem to bring those wounds to the surface. It was only when they were alone that Grissom would lose some of that carefully crafted self-control. She knew that Grissom felt responsible, and there were times when that guilt seemed to consume him. Listening to Mallory's taunts angered her beyond belief and sickened her with worry for Grissom at the same time. _

_It was then that Sara lost control of the anger bubbling inside of her. She simply could not listen to this twisted lunatic any longer. Sara erupted to her feet despite having her hands bound behind her. Sara screamed in anger, lowered her head, and charged Mallory with all her strength. Catching him off guard, the impact sent both of them crashing into the wall behind him. She viciously tried to kick and bite him. Strong arms lifted her up as she continued to twist and kick. Sam had her wrapped up his arms, making it impossible for her to inflict further damage on her captor. Mallory stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth where Sara's head had connected._

"_So Grissom's woman has some spunk," he sneered. Mallory took a step forward and slapped her across the face so hard, her head snapped back and blood flowed freely from her lip and nose. "You've earned this little treat. I saved this for Grissom, but I'm thinking that you should have a little taste of what I have in store for him."_

_Turning to Sam, Mallory ordered him to get Sara back down on her knees and to hold her there. With his knee putting pressure on her back, Sam pushed her head down so that her forehead was touching her knees. Sara felt a sharp sting as a hypodermic needle pierced her neck. Immediately, haziness descended upon her, and the world seemed to move in slow motion. She tried to focus on what was happening around her, but her world was starting to whirl out of control. A feeling of panic overwhelmed her, and Sara gasped out loud as the room started to tilt at an impossible angle. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to block out all the sensations that were assaulting her. She seemed to be spinning into a vortex, and was totally enveloped in confusion and panic._

In the cool darkness of her new location, Sara felt herself on edge. Her nerve endings seemed to be firing off all at once, sending small sparks of pain shooting up and down her body. She flopped down on her back, trying to calm herself with deep breaths. Not being able to see anything added to Sara's anxiousness. Gazing up through the blackness, she noticed a small blinking red light far above her. An infrared camera had been mounted in the top corner of the cell-like room she was in, and Sara had no doubt that soon she would have visitors now that they could see she was awake and moving about.

Gingerly moving her hands about, Sara realized that she was no longer in the jeans and shirt that she had worn to the warehouse. Instead, she was clothed in soft sweats and was barefoot. Rolling over on her hands and knees, Sara slowly stood up and held her hands out in front of her. She took small steps forward until she could touch a wall. Feeling along the walls, Sara was able to figure out that she was in a fifteen by twenty foot cell-like room. She felt for an entrance and found a metal door set in the smooth stone wall. The door was solid without a handle on the inside and a 2 inch horizontal slot set halfway up the door. Opposite the door was a toilet and sink, and she gratefully used the facility. Turning the water on in the sink, she splashed water on her face and cupped her hands to drink some of the tepid water.

Sighing, she felt her way to the corner of the room underneath where the camera was mounted. Sinking down into the corner, Sara rested and tried to gather her courage. She had no idea whether it was day or night. Nor did she have any idea how long she had been in this cell. There was nothing to do but wait and try not to let the panic that was rising overwhelm her.

_I'm not totally happy with this chapter. I know where I want to take this story. It's just getting there is the problem. Thanks to all who have reviewed. The reviews have kept me going._


	9. Chapter 9

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 9

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. School has started and time is at a premium. I will not abandon this story, but it may take me longer between posts as the school year progresses. All mistakes are mine.

The flashing blue and red lights from several police cruisers, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles that surrounded the front of the ranch-style home attracted a large wide-eyed crowd. Catherine and Nick pushed their way through the crowd and under the crime scene tape. A somber Jim Brass met them halfway to the house as they made their way to the crime scene.

"You're going to need some help. It's mess in there. We have three officers dead, another on the way to Desert Palm with multiple gunshot wounds, and McKeen is on the bumper getting treated. Apparently, this was the "safe" house that Grissom was in, and before you ask, he's not in there."

"He's gone missing? Jim, what went on here?" Catherine asked as her gaze took in the front of the house.

"I don't know. I'm on my way to see McKeen. Maybe he can shed some light on this," replied Brass.

Undersheriff Jeff McKeen sat just inside the opening of the ambulance, an emergency blanket draped over his shoulders, as an EMT treated a wide gash on the back of his head.

"Sir, we really need to take you to Desert Palm to check you out thoroughly," the EMT said as he placed gauze over the gash.

McKeen just shook his head and looked up in time to see Brass coming up to the ambulance.

"Undersheriff, we've got three dead and another on the way to Desert Palm. Grissom is missing," said the impatient detective. "Tell me what the hell went on here."

"This was precisely what I was afraid would happen," said a miserable Jeff McKeen. "Brass, the security was tight. I would have staked my life on it. I can't begin to tell you what went wrong."

"Apparently the security was not quite tight enough, undersheriff. You staked the lives of at least three officers, maybe four on your ingenious little plan. On top of that, Grissom is missing. Did you see anything, hear anything that could give us a clue to where they could have taken Gil?" said an exasperated Jim Brass. "Perhaps if I had known or Gil's team had known…"

"Then there's a good chance that Gil's team or you would be dead," snapped an aggravated McKeen. "There's got to be a leak in the department somewhere."

"We sure as hell know it's not me or CSI," Brass snapped back. "Who knew of Gil's location? That's the obvious place to start. Another consideration is that your officers who brought Grissom here could have been followed, but let's cover all the bases. Who else knew about this safe house?"

McKeen reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "The thought that someone from my department is a traitor is beyond belief. Internal Affairs should be handling this if that is the case."

"Look, right now we have squat. We only have suspicions that there is a mole in the department. Let's see what CSI comes up with and what I can find out. If what comes up points to someone in the department, I will be the first one to contact IA," said Brass.

McKeen looked at the seasoned detective and nodded. "Fine. Besides me, Ecklie knew that Grissom was going to a safe house, but he didn't know the location. Obviously, the officers in the house and the PD technician knew. Brass, I handpicked those men. None of them could be our mole."

"Still, they need to be checked out anyway, and forgive me for saying so, but so do you and Ecklie," Brass said flatly. "Tell me what you remember about what went down."

The undersheriff sighed and shook his head, "Everything happened so suddenly and quickly. I arrived here with Daniel Covington, one of the dayshift AV technicians, and Officer McCormick. I entered the house and arranged with Jenkins and Rodriguez where to put the equipment. Grissom was asleep on the couch and was pretty much out of it. Covington had most of the equipment set up and was working out the glitches when I thought I heard footsteps outside the front door. I remember walking over to the front window to check things out but didn't see anything suspicious. I was near the front door and I turned around to see how Covington was doing. I decided to go to the kitchen and was near the kitchen door ready to pour a cup of coffee when the next thing I knew I was knocked to the floor, and I must have been knocked out. I didn't see or hear anything until I woke up as the EMT's were making their way in."

"Undersheriff, this isn't a whole of help. By the looks of things, your guys put up some kind of fight. I guess it's pretty fortunate that you escaped with only a head wound," Brass said drily.

McKeen arched his eyebrows at the detective and continued to rub his neck. Wincing from the wound on the back of his head, the undersheriff stood up slowly and turned in time to see Catherine emerge from the house, heading straight for him. From her smoldering eyes, he could tell now was not the time to question the senior CSI about what evidence they had found.

Captain Brass, sensing a confrontation, quickly made his way to Catherine to deter her from the undersheriff. A shouting match would only cause a scene that the curious crowd did not need to witness and would probably ensure that Catherine would be taken off the case.

"Catherine, I was just about to question some of these fine citizens. How about you come with me and between the two of us, we should be able to work our way through to any potential witnesses pretty quickly," said Brass as he took her arm and steered her away from the injured undersheriff.

Four hours later, the entire graveyard shift made it back to the lab and had logged in the evidence they had collected at the scene. The lab techs worked at a feverish pace processing the blood evidence, fingerprints, and trace that had been collected. There was a sense of urgency as there was not the usual banter that went on in the lab. Greg Sanders lent a helping hand in the DNA lab in an effort to somehow hurry the results. It would take time to process all the evidence the team had collected, time they all felt was running out.

Nick Stokes finished logging in the evidence from the safe house and crossed the hall to the layout room. Brass and Warrick were at the hospital checking the condition of Officer Jenkins. Though he was shot multiple times, his wounds were not life-threatening. Brass had convinced McKeen to get checked out at Desert Palm. Warrick had accompanied Brass to collect the injured officer's uniform and the undersheriff's clothing.

Catherine, Nick, and Greg stood around the layout table grimly staring at the grisly photos that lay before them.

"According to McKeen, Grissom was on the couch here," indicated Catherine, pointing to the diagram of the house. "Directionality of the blood splatter and positions of Officers Jenkins, Rodriguez, and McCormick show that the intruder or intruders came in through this door. Covington was found near the equipment." Catherine pointed at the kitchen door that led to the two-car garage.

"McKeen was found on the floor here by the kitchen door which means that the perpetrators were probably hiding in the garage and entered the house through this door," theorized Catherine.

Nick spoke up. "Our perps were in the garage. The backdoor had been jimmied open and there were shoeprints leading to and from the backyard to the alleyway behind the house. After a preliminary comparison, the shoeprints match those that Warrick found at the warehouse. I'm waiting for Mandy to give us confirmation of fingerprints. I'm pretty sure that we'll find that Lopez and Baker were the perpetrators. The tire tread castings also match to those found at the warehouse. Circumstantial evidence point to those two. It would be great if we had a positive id from Jenkins. I think that we can safely assume that Lucas Mallory got what he wanted- Grissom."

"We'll have to wait on the eyewitness id. Warrick just called, and he's on the way back from Desert Palm with McKeen's clothing and Jenkins' uniform. Jenkins is still in surgery and we won't be able to talk to him until tomorrow morning," replied Catherine.

Sara remained seated against the wall under the camera. She had no idea how long she had been in this dark cell, but suddenly the light from a single light bulb that hung from the ceiling flashed on. Even though the light from the bulb was dim, Sara shielded her eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. The door slowly creaked open and a young man perhaps in his late teens or early twenties tentatively made his way into the room. He crouched down before her and held out a bottle of water and a paper plate which contained sandwich and half an apple.

Sara sat up straighter and took in the young man's appearance. The young man was almost 6 feet tall and had short curly brown hair. His cerulean blue eyes had an intense look to them that was somehow familiar to Sara. He was dressed in an orderly's light blue uniform. Silently he thrust his hands towards her, indicating that she should take the food and water. She reached out and took the food suddenly realizing how hungry she was. Sara looked back up at him and softly spoke her thanks. He just nodded, slowly stood up, and backed out the door, staring at her intensely the whole time.

The light remained on after the young man left and the door swung shut. Sara tentatively picked up the sandwich and examined its contents. The bread was slightly stale and in between the slices of bread was a thin layer of peanut butter. She nibbled at the food and decided that it was okay to eat. When she finished the sandwich, Sara picked up the apple and proceeded to eat that also.

Having finished the food, the brunette stretched out her long legs and examined the room in which she was being held. The walls were bare concrete with only a toilet and sink available. There was no furniture of any kind. It looked to be some kind of holding or isolation cell. Sara sighed, and her thoughts went back over the events of the recent past.

She was not sure how much time had passed since she had been taken, but she was confident that Gil and the rest of the team would find her. Patience was not virtue that Sara Sidle possessed so the urge to do something to help her situation ate at her. Sara stood up and started pacing around the cell like a caged animal.

The mumbling and sobbing Grissom could hear was seemingly incessant. The sounds seemed to echo in his head causing waves of nausea to shoot through him. The man cracked open his eyes and tried to focus them. Everything was blurry, and in shades of black and gray. He tried to reach up to at least rub at his eyes and to cover his ears to block out the offensive noise that continued to assault him. Something was wrong with his arms as they seemed to be wrapped about him.

Confusion reigned supreme at this point. It seemed as though he had no arms or hands and panic coursed through him. Grissom swung his head wildly from side to side and then his body seemed to follow suit. He rocked himself right off the side of the cot on which he had been lying. Falling on his face, he grunted as pain radiated from his ribs and shoulder. Lying on the floor, panting rapidly, Grissom squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm himself by trying to take slow, careful deep breaths. Somehow this exercise seemed to help clear his head.

Stark realization struck him that the mumbling and sobbing that he heard was coming from himself. His mouth felt as if it was filled with cotton, and he swallowed hard. _What the hell?_ Slowly Grissom realized that his hands and arms were restricted because of a strait jacket that was restraining him. His damaged left wrist was protesting loudly against the pressure of the jacket's restraints. He gingerly tried to move his uninjured arm and somehow work it loose from its restraining sheaf.

The opening of a door and approaching footsteps caused him to turn his head toward those sounds. Two pairs of hands roughly picked him up and literally threw him back onto the cot. Grunting with pain, he tried to focus on his man handlers. Blurry images floated above him, and he blinked his eyes trying to focus on those images. He could hear voices, though they seemed muffled and far away. Dizzy and disoriented, Grissom tried to lift his head and sit up, but he was quickly pushed down and the sting of a needle sent him once again into oblivion.

PS- So what do you think about the turn of events? As always, thanks for those who have reviewed as the reviews are a great source of encouragement. I hope to post again by the end of next week, but as I said before, time is at a premium at the present time. Reviews will definitely help me to post sooner (hint, hint) 


	10. Chapter 10

Journey Through the Past- chapter10

A/N: All disclaimers apply and all mistakes are truly my own!

David Hodges checked the readout from the computer and double-checked it. He wanted to be absolutely positive about his findings before he took them to Catherine. He walked down the hall to the layout room and found the team gathered around the table.

"Psst! Catherine, can I talk to you?" Hodges whispered urgently, looking quickly around to make sure that they would have some privacy.

"David, what is it? We're in the middle of something here," responded an impatient Catherine Willows.

"Catherine, please…..I need to show you something in the trace lab. It has something to do with Grissom," Hodges spoke in a low urgent tone.

Catherine sighed, "Guys, keep going. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Turning to Hodges, Catherine growled, "This better be good David. I'm not in the mood for you to be wasting my time or the team's at this juncture."

Slightly offended by her tone, Hodges' tone hardened, "Catherine, if I didn't think what I discovered was important to Grissom's case, I wouldn't have bothered you or the team. It's just that….well, you'll just have to see for yourself."

Catherine looked at Hodges and softened her tone, "David, I'm sorry. We're all on edge. Show me what you have got."

The lab technician straightened up and stood a little taller. "Catherine, you should know that Grissom and I have a very special relationship. He trusts me. I have always admired him and he values me for my insight. You see, there aren't a lot of men like Grissom and me. People don't understand guys like us," Hodges said in a confidential tone.

"Uh, right, David. I see. Just show me what you found, okay?" Catherine said with all the patience she could muster.

"Right this way. I didn't want to share this with everyone because the political fallout could be dangerous," said Hodges, handing her his analysis.

"I analyzed the remnants of juice that was in this coffee mug. There were traces of DNA, Grissom's, but I also found traces of benzodiazepine. Catherine, this drug is used in humans and veterinarian practices to sedate the patient. The type in this mug is generally used by vets. It's pretty powerful. There's one other thing that I found. Due to my thoroughness, I found traces of it in the front left shirt pocket of Officer Jenkins' uniform."

"Grissom was drugged. No wonder he was out for the count when McKeen was there. Jenkins must be our mole. Hodges, no one knows about this, you understand? I will inform the rest of the team and Brass. Under no circumstances are you to share this information with anyone else, especially McKeen. From what I understand, he picked all the officers for this detail. Until we can clear Ecklie, McKeen, and all the other police personnel involved in this, everyone is under suspicion. Thanks David," Catherine replied. She abruptly turned and hurried to the layout room with this latest bit of information.

He was floating, gently wrapped in layers of soft cotton. Grissom was unaware of his surroundings. He had no concerns, no worries, just the sensation of warmth that seemed to flood his entire body. He had never felt so content. Somewhere in the back of his mind though, he felt that he should be focused on what? Something, but he couldn't quite grasp it. The drugged man sighed and tried in a half-hearted way to puzzle out what was niggling at the back of his mind. He finally gave up, content to just float along in this dreamlike state.

Dr. Kenneth Jones observed the patient through the one-way glass, busily jotting notes on a clipboard. Grissom was still restrained in the straitjacket, but it looked as though it would be safe to take it off. The patient no longer seemed to be in danger of hurting himself or anyone else. The man was heavily drugged and completely under control of the combination of drugs that had been given to him. Grissom had been injected every hour on the hour since his arrival. This regiment would continue until the patient had developed both physical and psychological dependence on the cocktail of hypnotic and hallucinogenic drugs that had been specifically designed for him. The good doctor was surprised by the number of dosages it had taken to bring this man under control. Each proceeding dosage had been upped in order to bring about the desired affect. Obviously the patient had a strong will and a well-disciplined mind. Well, no matter, this man would be broken in due time.

The door to the observation room opened, and Lucas Mallory walked in. "How's he doing, Kenny?" Mallory asked in a jovial tone.

"He's under control for the moment. That cocktail you created is pretty strong. When he comes down from the current high, he'll practically be begging for some relief," reported Dr. Jones in a dry tone.

Mallory grinned widely and nodded. "Wonderful. He's almost ready for me."

Turning to Mallory, Dr. Jones continued, "Lucas wasn't it enough that you took away this man's family and almost destroyed him? I mean, it wasn't like you didn't ask for it all those years ago. Why are you doing this? It wasn't just luck that helped you escape from prison, and I can still help you disappear or leave the country. Lucas, it's not too late. We can let the woman go. Let the drugs wear off of him and perhaps release him. I can come up with a plausible story. Let's stop this before it goes too far."

Mallory incredulously stared at the man before him. "You're kidding me, right? You're telling me that the fact Grissom stole twenty years of my life isn't worth some payback? The world should have been thanking me for getting rid of all those vermin back then instead of sending me to that hell hole!" exclaimed Mallory.

"Kenny, you're not getting cold feet after everything we've been through together? We're family, dammit! Families stick together, don't they? Mom always said that I could always depend on you because of your dad. Your dad always looked out for Mom and she said that you would look out for me. Are you telling me that Mom was wrong? You, my own cousin, would turn your back on me?" continued Mallory forcefully.

"Lucas, you know that I want to help you all that I can. If you think about it, I've gone above and beyond the call of duty. You had the best lawyers, and I was able to get you protected in prison. In fact, Lucas, who arranged for your escape, huh?" countered Jones, not willing to be intimidated by his somewhat deranged cousin.

"Yeah, right. You took your sweet time doing it too," sneered an ungrateful Lucas Mallory. "It took you twenty years to get your act together, didn't it?"

"Lucas, you know it wasn't that simple. I was finishing up my residency and then you show up with that woman and her baby. That whole arrangement took time and money. At the same time, I owed by financiers for med school. As it is now, my sponsors and I have a pretty cozy relationship. I took care of things then, and I'm taking care of things now. There's a lot I can do for you, but everything can be blown to hell if we aren't careful."

Mallory just shook his head. "Kenny, Kenny, Kenny. You worry too much. I have everything under control. I have what I wanted. In fact, even more than what I expected. I will have my come-uppance and everything will be cool."

Dr. Jones just looked at his cousin. It was amazing to him that this individual could even be remotely related to himself. Although Jones' activities weren't exactly legal, his moral compass wasn't as skewed as the man standing right next to him. He did have a conscience, and his conscience was telling him that he would, somehow and in some way, convince his cousin that the plans he had for Grissom should not come to fruition. Shaking his head, Jones walked around his cousin and started to leave the observation room.

"I'm on the way to check on the woman," Jones said. Pausing, he turned to Mallory and relayed to him, "I'm moving her to more comfortable accommodations. Do you have objections?"

Mallory just smirked, "Nah, let her enjoy a respite."

Dr. Jones walked down the concrete hallway from the observation room and to the building where Sara was being kept. The clinic was actually a converted jail complex that had been abandoned by the federal government back in the late 1950's. The complex had originally been designed to house prisoners of war during World War II. Located in the middle of the desert of central Nevada, the complex was thought to be an ideal location for POW's as there was little chance prisoners would attempt an escape in such a harsh environment so far from civilization. Now it was at least a four hour drive back to Las Vegas. The only way to get to this complex was to head east off Highway 95 past the tiny town of Goldfield on ten miles of dusty dirt road.

The row of cells where Sara was currently being held had been designed with solitary confinement in mind. These cells were located away from the main complex and generally remained empty. When Lucas and his men showed up in the middle of the night with the woman they had drugged, Jones had little choice but to have them put her in one of these isolated rooms. Lucas had not paid her a visit since his two men had deposited her in the cell. The closed-circuit camera had revealed little. She remained underneath the camera, out of view. However, when Jones had sent Arthur, his young orderly, over with food for her, she had not given Arthur any trouble.

As far as Jones' staff was concerned, the clinic existed to treat patients who were about to be sentenced to the state mental institution for the criminally insane or to the state prison. The private clinic was contracted by the state of Nevada to treat these patients as a last resort in order for them to avoid institutionalization. The hope was by successfully treating these patients, they might be released back into society as full functioning citizens. The clinic, The Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions, which was privately owned, also accepted patients from other states and from families whose loved ones might be treading that thin line of criminal activity to feed their addiction. So it wasn't unusual for the staff to meet a new associate of Dr. Jones and his two patients. The staff only knew that these one of these two individuals had tendencies to be extremely violent and so required "special handling." At this point, the nurses were not responsible for the care of these two patients, which was fine with them. They had enough to do without having to deal with two patients with the background these two apparently had. Dr. Jones' associate had indicated that he would need an additional orderly to help besides the two orderlies who were "specially" trained, and so Arthur was assigned to the new "doctor."

Jones found Arthur and indicated to him that he should follow the good doctor to the isolation wing. Arthur merely nodded and followed Jones to Sara's cell. Upon opening the door, Ken Jones slowly opened the door. Sara was back sitting under the camera, and she rose quickly to face her captor.

"Hi Sara. My name is Ken Jones. I'm the head physician here. I apologize for the barren accommodations. Other than the lack of amenities of this cell, I trust that you have been treated well. Has Arthur been polite to you and taken care of you?" the doctor said carefully, trying to gauge the mood of the woman standing before him.

Sara stared incredulously at the man before her. "Where am I? Why am I being locked up here? I was taken against my will. How do you know my name?" Sara demanded cautiously, trying to stay calm.

Jones just smiled gently. "You have a lot of questions and I will answer all your questions in due time. However, I would like to move you to more comfortable surroundings. In order for me to do that, I need to know that I will have your full cooperation. There's a friend of yours here and in order for you to see him, you will need to cooperate. I would say that he could use a friendly face. I believe you know a Dr. Gil Grissom?"

"Gil is here?" said Sara in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes, he is, but in order for you to have any contact with him at all, I need to know that you won't give Arthur here any trouble."

Sara turned her attention to the young orderly. He hadn't said a word, and like before, stared at her with intense blue eyes. "I won't give him any trouble," choked Sara as she stared back at the young man and then turned her attention back to the doctor. "When can I see Grissom? Is he okay?"

"Well, right now, he's resting. He's…he's not up to company right now. But in good time, Sara, in good time. Shall we get you to more comfortable accommodations?" Jones said as he motioned her towards the door.

Sara nodded her assent numbly. _Gil is here. But what does Jones mean when he's not up for company? _ Sara had too many questions running through her head. She meekly followed the doctor with Arthur following closely behind her. She kept a watchful eye out, taking in the details of her surroundings. Anxiousness and worry was starting to consume her and her only goal at the present time was to somehow make her way to Grissom.

The desert sun caused Sara to squint and cover her eyes as they left the building to walk across the complex to a long one-story building made of concrete. There were no windows and the building resembled a military bunker. Unlocking the iron door, Jones held the door open for Sara to enter the cool interior of the building. Taking a moment for her eyes to adjust, she observed that this building was similar to one they had just left. This building contained 6 cell-like rooms, three on each side of the dimly-lit concrete passageway. Each cell had an iron door that was identical to the door of the solitary confinement cell Sara had just left. After locking the iron door behind them, Jones proceeded to lead Sara and the orderly to the center cell on the right side of the hallway. He unlocked the solid metal door and swung it wide for Sara to enter.

Sara hesitated for a moment, and was gently but firmly pushed into the room. This room was well-lit and contained an army-style cot, toilet, and sink. Next to the cot was a small metal nightstand that was bolted to the wall and a chest of drawers. There was a closed-circuit camera mounted in the far corner and was situated in such a way that it took the entire view of the room. The walls were white-washed and made the room seem unnaturally bright. The room was lit by a single light bulb that was mounted in a fixture in the ceiling. A single wooden chair completed the furnishings.

"Arthur will attend to your needs. I have instructed him to bring you some toiletries, towels, and a couple changes of clothing. You will have the basic patient garb, I'm afraid, but they are quite comfortable. Arthur will be bringing you some supper in a couple of hours. I'm afraid that you don't have free reign to wander about the grounds, but Arthur can bring you books, paper, and pencils to help you pass the time," said Jones.

"Why am I being locked up? Lucas Mallory brought me here, didn't he? Where is he? What do you have to do with him? You seem like a legitimate doctor. Why are you doing this? What do you intend to do with me?" Sara demanded.

"Lucas did bring you here, and for right now I just need you to cooperate. For your own good and for Dr. Grissom's, I suggest that you just go along with everything. I know that you don't have any reason to trust me, but really, I am trying to figure a way out for the both of you," replied the doctor.

The glare in Sara's eyes told the doctor how much she trusted him. He sighed and said, "Arthur will take you to the women's showers after supper. I'm sure that you would like to freshen up a bit, especially if you are to see Dr. Grissom."

Trying to reassure Sara, he continued, "He's safe for right now and in not any real danger or pain. I'll return in a while to check in on how you are faring." Nodding to Arthur, both of them left the room, closing the door behind them and locking Sara in.

A/N: I was able to finish this chapter sooner than I expected. However, I'm woefully behind in work. Again, please review and give me your opinions as I value them tremendously. Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 11

Jim Brass and Nick Stokes entered Desert Palm Hospital intent on interviewing Officer Jenkins about Grissom's abduction. It had been almost a full day since the Graveyard Shift Supervisor had been taken, and both Brass and Stokes had been informed by Catherine just a few hours earlier about Hodges' findings. Immediately, Brass had uniforms guarding the injured police officer. No one with the exception of the doctors and nurses were allowed to get near the man. The detective was able to justify the guards as a form of "protection" as he was the only survivor save Undersheriff McKeen. It was fairly obvious to both Stokes and Brass that Jenkins contributed to Grissom's kidnapping, and they didn't want anything to happen to him before they could find out who had given him his marching orders.

As Nick and Brass entered the third floor surgical wing, they spotted Dr. Taylor rounding the corner. He had obviously just gotten out of surgery and as he turned, he found the detective and CSI approaching him.

Flashing his credentials, Captain Brass smiled at the surgeon, recognizing him as the doctor who had worked on Grissom. "Captain Jim Brass, Las Vegas PD. Dr. Taylor, I believe you were Dr. Gil Grissom's attending physician when he was here. Are you also Officer Jenkins attending?"

The doctor nodded his head wearily and said, "Yes, I am. What can I help you with? Officer Jenkins is just being wheeled out of the operating room and is currently in recovery."

"First, Dr. Taylor, how serious are Officer Jenkins' injuries and what is his condition?" asked Nick.

"Well, he suffered gunshots to his left shoulder and arm, one through his thigh, and a bullet grazed his right side. Apparently when he fell, he hit his head and sustained a moderate concussion. This has caused some swelling to his cerebral cortex. Officer Jenkins did suffer significant blood loss. Right now he is in serious but guarded condition. Taken separately, none of his injuries are life-threatening, but the combination of these injuries ups the ante," reported the physician.

"Thank you, doctor. We'd like to talk to him as soon as possible," said a determined Jim Brass.

"I'll see what I can do. My primary concern is my patient, but I do understand that a crime has been committed," nodded the doctor.

"Yes, we believe that the same perpetrators who attacked Dr. Grissom a few days ago have now abducted him. We're hoping that Officer Jenkins can give us some more details about the perps. Is there anything we should know about Grissom's condition? We know that you released him on the condition that he had bed rest. Obviously, that's not happening," said Nick.

Dr. Taylor took a moment to reflect on what he could remember about Grissom's injuries. "Obviously if Dr. Grissom's injuries were very serious, I would not have released him from the hospital. Still, I wasn't entirely comfortable letting him go. I would have preferred for him to stay at least two or three days."

Pursing his lips, he continued, "We were able to set his wrist and it was casted so that injury is pretty much protected unless the cast is removed prematurely. He had a slight concussion which will obviously worsen with any kind of blow to the head. He could experience double vision, headaches, and even hallucinations. I could go on with the ribs and his shoulder injury, but you get the idea."

Nodding, an impatient Brass replied, "Yeah, we get the idea, Doc, which why we would like to see Jenkins right away."

Dr. Taylor walked back over to the nurses' station and reached over the counter for the chart on Jenkins. "Captain Brass, how about an hour to get him out of recovery and settled into a room? Will that be soon enough?"

Brass nodded reluctantly. He just as soon as go into recovery now and shake the information out of the injured man, but no one except the graveyard shift CSI's, Davy Hodges, and Brass knew that Jenkins had drugged an unsuspecting Grissom. He and Nick would have to wait.

"C'mon, Jim. Let's go down to the cafeteria and get what they pass for coffee around here," Nick said in an attempt to keep the detective calm.

"Sure Nick." Turning to Dr. Taylor, Brass turned to the doctor and said, "No more than an hour, doctor." He then abruptly turned around and headed towards the elevator. Nick quickly followed after him.

Officer Carl Jenkins was wheeled into the recovery room. The OR nurses made sure that the patient was connected to the monitors that would measure his vital signs and checked his IV's. Jenkins was covered with a blanket to keep him warm. When the injured officer regained consciousness, he would be moved to a private room. The nurses went quietly about their business of getting the OR ready for the next surgical procedure. An orderly came in to take care of the used surgical scrubs and the make sure that the used gauze, sponges, and bandages were disposed of properly. The orderly moved deliberately through the recovery room, cautiously working his way towards the recovering patient. Slipping through the drape that surrounded the gurney, the orderly quickly withdrew a syringe from his pocket and injected its contents into the patient's IV port. Slipping the syringe back into his pocket, he made his way through the room and pushing the bin with the used scrubs, wheeling it out of the recovery room and down to the laundry.

An hour later, Nick and Brass made their way back to the third floor, prepared to question the recovering officer. Checking at the nurses' station for the location of the patient's room, they were informed that complications had occurred with Officer Jenkins while he was in recovery. He had developed a high fever and, instead of waking up out of the anesthesia, had slipped into a coma. Dr. Taylor was immediately summoned and he ordered blood work done on the patient and measures were being taken to bring the patient's temperature down. Jenkins would be transferred to ICU and his condition was now critical.

Frustrated beyond belief, Jim Brass demanded to see Dr. Taylor.

A harried Doctor Taylor appeared impatiently a few minutes later.

"Dr. Taylor, just an hour ago, your patient was in recovery. Now you're telling me he's in a coma and in critical condition? What the hell happened?" demanded Brass.

The doctor helplessly shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his forehead. "Captain Brass, Officer Jenkins has apparently developed a potentially lethal staph infection. Right now, we are doing a blood panel on him, trying to get a handle on the type of staph infection he does have and from there we will be able to treat the infection. I'm at a loss to explain this. This all happened so quickly. It's virtually unheard of. My guess is that somehow a live strain was injected into him. It's the only explanation that would explain how quickly this happened," said a weary Dr. Taylor.

"Will he recover, Doctor?" inquired Nick.

"I can't answer that right now. It depends how lethal the strain of staph he has is and how he got the infection. My immediate concern is my patient, so if you will excuse me, I must attend to him," said the doctor as he hurried away.

"Great, just great," mumbled Brass.

"Jim, this infection was no accident. Someone knew that Jenkins would be questioned about what went down in the safe house. I just have this gut feelin' that McKeen was somehow behind this." Nick said.

"I have the same feeling, Nicky," said Brass with a sigh. "Let's get a roster to see which hospital personnel was scheduled to work on the 3rd floor surgical wing. We've got some old fashioned detective work to do."

Officer Jenkins died some eight hours after surgery. He never regained consciousness. The determination had been made that the man had been injected with a deadly strain of staph through his IV port. The hospital personnel assigned that night to the surgical wing had been interviewed and cleared. However, several of the OR nurses had a vague recollection of an orderly they did not recognize in the recovery room hovering around the patient. Descriptions of the suspect varied but it was determined that the mysterious orderly was a male in his late twenties or early thirties. The police department sketch artist was summoned to try to draw a composite sketch of the perpetrator.

Archie in the AV lab was intently analyzing security video from the hospital in an attempt to spot the mystery orderly on camera based on the sketch produced by the police department artist. The mysterious orderly resembled one ex-convict Samuel Baker and Archie had both the sketch and prison photograph of Baker in front of him. Several tapes from the hospital had been confiscated and it was a painstaking task to view all the footage. Smiling, Archie logged in the time signature, location of the camera, and the tape which was frozen on Baker descending down a stairwell from the third floor surgical wing.

Catherine Willows and Greg Sanders were sifting through boxes of evidence recovered from the safe house. It had been two days since Grissom had been abducted. They were making some headway, but as each hour passed, the team felt the anxiety level ratchet up a notch. An APB was issued for Samuel Baker for questioning in the death of Officer Carl Jenkins. His DNA was also found at the safe house where Grissom had been taken. Finding Baker would break this case wide open and enable them to find their two missing CSI's. The evidence was developing, but much too slowly for Catherine.

Wendy Simms burst into the layout room. "Catherine, I've got something to show you. I found matches to all the DNA samples except for one. This one sample doesn't match any of the suspects or any of the police personnel. However, it has 7 alleles common with Grissom's."

With a questioning look in her eyes, Catherine took the report that Wendy held out to her. "Wendy, are you sure? There couldn't be any mistake?" Catherine said in a low voice.

The DNA lab technician shook her head and replied, "I ran it several times, just to make sure. Whoever belongs to this sample is a first degree relative to Grissom, which would mean a brother or father….."

"Or son. Catherine, you don't think that…." interrupted Greg with a look of surprise.

Turning to Greg, Catherine said softly, "I don't know. Grissom was sure that his son and wife were killed twenty years ago. They didn't have the technology back then to make a DNA match of the bodies. If this is Grissom's son, where has he been the last twenty years and what about the mother? Right now, there have more questions than answers."

It had been five days since he had been abducted. Five days of continuous "drug therapy." Grissom was allowed to slowly descend from the constant high that he had been on. Disorientation and confusion slowly enveloped him. Soon nausea joined the confusion along with severe cramps and shaking. Grissom groaned. A raging fever made him feel as though he was on fire and he shakily sat up on the cot on which he had been lying. Sweat streamed down his chest and face, and he felt as though he was slowly suffocating. Bits and pieces of memories flashed through Grissom as he tried to make sense of his situation. _Where am I? What is happening to me? _He shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Instead, the shaking caused the pounding in his head to intensify to alarmingly proportions. His head felt as if it were going to explode, and Grissom reached up to hold his head together. Excruciating pain shot through his left arm and shoulder. Groaning, the bewildered man collapsed back down onto the cot. He tried to calm the pounding of his heart by taking slow deep breaths, but his sore ribs prevented him from doing so. Instead, he took shallow breaths and tried to concentrate on remembering what had happened to him. Vague images floated before him. A young man staring at him with startlingly blue eyes kept coming to him, but he didn't know who he was but felt that he should. Sounds of gunfire resonating through his head kept in time with the pounding in his head. He tried to grasp hold of the visions, but they seemed like wispy clouds just beyond his reach.

Grissom was dimly aware of a door slowly opening. He turned his eyes see a man dressed in a doctor's white lab coat quietly pull up a chair next to the cot. As the man sat down, he wrote on the clipboard he brought with him and silently stared at Grissom.

Grissom blinked his eyes in order to clear his vision. His eyes gradually started to focus and he took in the silent man sitting next to him. This man in the lab coat looked vaguely familiar to him. _I should know this man. Who is he? Someone…someone I don't trust….someone who….._ Grissom could not finish the thought. He continued to stare at the man as the stranger regarded him with a slight smile on his face.

"So you are with us today, Gil. That's good. I'm sure that you are feeling a little hazy right now. You had quite an episode, and you really put yourself through the wringer. But I see that you have calmed down quite a bit. I'm sure that you are in some pain and that you experiencing cramping and nausea. That's to be expected when you are going through withdrawal but we'll monitor you closely," said the doctor in measured tones.

"With..withdrawl? Wha..what are you talking about? Where am I and what are you talking about?" croaked Grissom in a hoarse whisper, more confused than ever.

"Gil, you are suffering from a rather serious addiction to hypnotic and hallucinogenic drugs. You have been in and out of rehab for some time and you are now at the Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions. You have been ordered to this treatment facility to dry out and then you will be sentenced to the Nevada State Prison. Depending how your treatment goes and how much progress you make will determine your sentencing. You will be sentenced to a life term, but if you make progress and beat your addiction, the court could grant that you be eligible for parole in 25 years. Your last episode into addiction was extremely violent and you are pretty much done with skirting the court system," said the doctor in a patient tone.

Grissom continued to stare at the doctor at a loss for words. He could not get his voice to work. _I have no clue what is going on. He can't possibly mean me. _Denial rose within him and panic caused him to rise up out of the cot. The only thought echoing through his brain was that he had to leave this nightmare. He started to push the doctor out of his way to make his way to the door in order to escape. Suddenly, two men in prison guard uniforms grabbed him and threw him on the concrete floor of the cell. Grissom's face was pressed against the cold floor and his arms yanked behind him. He felt the bones in his broken wrist grind against one another and white-hot pain shot through him. One of the men held his head down while the other held his arms behind him, The guard's knee was pressed into his back making it impossible for Grissom to move. Grissom felt the sting of a syringe plunge into his neck as he was sent into oblivion.

A/N: Thanks to all who have stuck with this story. I'm sorry for such a long delay in posting. It's a little rough, and I apologize for that. Please let me know how I'm doing as I am sailing in unknown waters at this point.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Undersheriff Jeff McKeen knew that his days were numbered. Although he had been wounded in Grissom's abduction, the fact that he was the only survivor with relatively minor injuries had put him instantly under the microscope of Jim Brass and Grissom's team of CSI's. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get out from under that cloud of suspicion. As long as Sidle and Grissom were missing, the investigation would continue. He rubbed his forehead and contemplated how he could somehow weasel out of this mess. He had a vague idea of where Grissom was taken but, unless he had a positive confirmation, he would not make a move. McKeen was also sure that where he would find Grissom, he would find Sidle.

Grissom had trained his people too well. His team of investigators would be tenacious in trying to find those responsible for the abductions and for the murders of the police personnel at the safe house. That whole scenario had gone badly. Mallory's men had not followed the plan that McKeen had laid out. They were not supposed to show up at the house but wait for him at a remote location. There, McKeen would have handed Grissom over to Mallory. No one was supposed to get hurt, let alone killed. At least Mallory had taken care of Jenkins. One less problem to have to worry about as far as witnesses go, however, Jenkins' death was now being investigated as a murder. That was another matter entirely. He just had to make sure the trail didn't lead back to him.

Unbeknownst to Undersheriff McKeen, Brass had the undersheriff under constant surveillance since his release from the hospital. Even though he had not formally interviewed McKeen since the night of Grissom's abduction, the undersheriff's actions concerning Grissom's placement in the safe house and his subsequent abduction had spoken volumes to Jim Brass. The detective had been able to obtain an attorney general's court order to conduct the surveillance and a trace was put on the undersheriff's phone lines. Brass and Nick Stokes had made token efforts to try to interview the undersheriff, but it was just enough to make McKeen feel as though these attempts were the extent that the investigation had gone so far. The undersheriff wanted to forestall any investigation as long as possible, and it gave McKeen a temporary false sense of security.

For now, McKeen was on paid administrative leave and had managed to avoid Brass and Stokes, but he would not be able to dodge both the seasoned detective and the senior CSI for much longer. Sighing, he picked up his phone and hit speed dial. He would have to try to turn the tables so that any investigation would turn on Grissom. Grissom would not be the fine upstanding member of the Las Vegas Police Department that everyone thought he was. He would be sought by law enforcement, not for rescue, but for criminal activity and murder.

Mallory sat across the desk from Jones and angrily stared at his cousin. "What's the idea of interfering with Grissom?" demanded Mallory.

Jones replied, "Relax Lucas. I just sedated him. He didn't receive any more of your "special mix," okay? You should have expected that reaction. You might have muddled his memory, but you can't destroy the essence of the man. He's not going to play your game. You'll have to kill him first."

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair, Mallory growled, "I can break him. He's not as strong as you think. I know what he's all about. Before I'm done with him, I'll become his best friend, you'll see. Now, now long will he be out? How much will he remember of our little conversation?"

"He should come around in about4 hours. Hard to tell, but from all the abuse his body has taken lately and the affects of the "drug therapy," he could be out longer. Lucas, let's move him to the medical building. He's going to need that wrist set again. Your guys did a job on it and I probably should check on his other injuries. I mean it's not going to be much fun for you if he can't truly appreciate your game because he's too centered on his own physical pain," reasoned Jones. The doctor paused and continued in a measured tone, "Lucas, I don't want Arthur mixed up in what you're doing. I don't want him to be a pawn in your sick game."

Lucas looked at his cousin. "You've become attached to the boy. You care for him. Kenny, this is Grissom's son. I want Grissom to know that I had his son under my thumb all these years. I want him to know that his wife and child suffered miserably," said an incensed Lucas Mallory.

"No, Lucas. You didn't have Rachel and Arthur under your thumb. They were with me. I was the one who was responsible for them. For your information, they didn't suffer miserably, at least, not like you would have wanted them to suffer. You had little to do with them until you showed up here a few days ago. Do what you want with Sidle and Grissom, but leave Arthur alone. Arthur has become important to me. You will not harm him," Jones said with finality.

"Why Kenny, you really do care for him, don't you? Look, I promise that he won't be harmed. It's Grissom I want to suffer anyway. Perhaps if Grissom realizes that his son hates him, that will be enough. Look, I need him to take part in my plans. It will be that much harder if he isn't involved. I promise that I will take care of Arthur, alright?" Mallory said in a conciliatory tone.

Taking a deep breath and not quite trusting the twisted individual sitting before him, Ken Jones nodded his head. He would have to keep a close watch on his cousin. He didn't trust Mallory as far as he could throw him, but, for the moment, he would have to go along with Mallory's plan. Jones then persuaded his cousin to allow him to move Grissom to the medical wing of the clinic.

Sara took a deep breath and sighed. She had lost track of time and wasn't sure how long ago she had been taken by Lucas Mallory. She restlessly paced her small cell-like room. Sara sat on the cot, and stretched her long legs. With the exception of Dr. Jones, her visitors consisted of the young silent orderly and Lucas Mallory.

Mallory had visited a couple of times, mostly to taunt her about Grissom. On his last visit, he had left her a series of photographs. The photos showed an unconscious Grissom strapped in a hospital bed with leather restraints. His face was battered and bruised, and his left arm lay across his chest. His wrist was swollen and in some kind of brace. Mallory had giggled with glee at Sara's obvious distress.

"What have you done?" she whispered, staring at the photographs.

"Just a little "adjustment therapy," said Mallory in a jovial tone. "I'm sorry that he's in no condition for visitors right now. Perhaps soon, though, when he learns and accepts his situation. Perhaps then, Sara, you can be reunited with him." Mallory had left, whistling, obviously quite pleased with himself.

Pulling the photographs from beneath her pillow, her fingers lightly traced Grissom's unconscious face. She closed her eyes and slid the distressing photographs back underneath her pillow. She imagined Grissom fighting against Mallory's ministrations, that somehow she might be able to give him strength through sheer will.

She turned her thoughts to her other visitors. Thoughts of Grissom's plight sent waves of anxiety through her, and she had to focus on trying to get back to him in some way. She wasn't sure if she could trust Jones. He had promised a visit to Grissom when they had first moved her to this cell. He had come through, but that was before Mallory had given her the photographs. At first, Grissom had been put in an isolation cell similar to the one that Sara had first been put in. At the time, Grissom had been unconscious and hadn't acknowledged her presence. She had taken a quick inventory of his injuries, at least the ones that were obvious. The bruises that were on his face then were fading and she could see a patch of gauze on his left shoulder through the gray t-shirt they had dressed him in. His ribs had been taped and his left wrist was slightly swollen. Whether he was unconscious because of his injuries or because he was drugged, Sara couldn't tell. Jones didn't give her the time to figure it out. She had only been able to briefly touch him and to softly say his name. Grissom offered no reaction to her touch or the whisper of his name. Then she had been pulled away. She hadn't seen Grissom since.

Jones had come by at least once a day to update her on Grissom's condition; however, he did not share with Sara Mallory's plan for him. He had confirmed that Grissom had been moved to the medical wing of the clinic. Jones told Sara that he had convinced Mallory to allow him to do so in the hopes that he could monitor Grissom's "treatments." Mallory's thugs had roughed up the injured investigator, giving Jones the excuse he needed to move him, allowing him a little more control of what was happening to him. Sara didn't fully trust the doctor, but at this point, she had little choice. Sara was not sure of the connection between the doctor and Mallory, but the bond was an uneasy one from what she could tell. She didn't think the doctor was playing her about wanting to help her or Grissom. Sara just didn't know how far she could trust the doctor to tell her the truth.

The orderly, Arthur, was another matter; he was an enigma. He brought her food three times a day but remained silent. Sara had her suspicions about Arthur, but was unsure how to go about finding out more about him or confirming her conclusions. She had tried to engage him in conversation, but he just stared at her. She was pretty sure that he could hear her, even though he wore hearing aids that were barely visible. He almost never turned his back to her, always backing out the door when he brought her meals or other supplies. Sara was sure that Arthur was a key element in this whole scenario, and she had to somehow establish a relationship of trust with him.

The young orderly pushed the cart through the hallway down to the woman's cell. Arthur picked up the metal tray that contained the Sara's meal, vegetable soup and bread. Peeking through the slot in the door, he noted the room's lone occupant setting against the far wall on her cot. Arthur stared at her briefly. When he had first made contact with her in the isolation cell, he had a felt an instant connection. She had stared at him as though she knew him somehow. She unsettled him, and he didn't know why. He didn't know this woman, had never met her or seen her before, but there was something about her…

Shaking his head to clear away the unsettling feelings, he carefully carried in her meal. Arthur approached her with the tray. She looked up at him with a slight smile on her face and held her right hand up, palm out. She then turned her hand, palm side in, and patted her chest once. Then she carefully finger-spelled, "S-A-R-A."

I'm Sara.

Arthur stopped cold in his tracks. Besides his mother, no one had ever signed with him. In fact, no one knew that he could sign. His eyes widened slightly, and he stared at her intently. Cautiously he set the try down, never looking awa from Sara. He pointed to Sara and with a questioning look in his eyes, signed back. You sign?

She smiled and nodded. Slowly she signed back to him as she looked intently at his face. May I call you Scott?

The soft shuffling of feet reached into his consciousness, and he gradually became aware of his surroundings. His eyes cracked open and he tried to focus on where he was. Grissom realized that he was in a hospital ward. Turning his head slightly, he waited until his eyes could focus and took in his surroundings. There were five other beds in this room, but it looked as though he was the only patient. He looked up see a stocky woman with graying hair in a nurse's uniform adjusting an IV drip into his arm.

"Ahh, I see that you are awake. I'll call the doctor to let him know that you are back with us. You had quite an episode, but I'm sure that you will be feeling better soon," said the nurse with a slight smile. She tucked the blanket covering him around him more securely and quickly left the room.

Grissom's confusion came flooding back to him. _How did I get here? What has happened? Can't remember…._ He squeezed his eyes shut and chewed on his lip. Concentrating on his present situation, he tried to keep the bits and pieces of memory from overwhelming him. He tried to move his hands to rub his forehead and found that he could not. Opening his eyes, he looked down and realized he was in restraints. He briefly strained against the leather straps that held him securely to the bed and then relaxed. Grissom realized he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

AN: Another chapter in the books. I think it's starting to come together. Thanks for being so patient. Please keep those reviews coming. They mean a lot.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As the sedative wore off, Grissom felt uneasiness and panic descend upon him. He tried to relax as he lay against the pillow, but felt his self-control slowly melt away. He was at the edge of a precipice and it was as if his soul was about to leap into nothingness. Taking a shaky breath, he turned his head to see the doctor enter the ward with a chart in his hand.

The doctor, a man of medium height with sandy-colored hair, studied the chart for a moment and then made his way over to Grissom. He stood next to the bed and regarded his patient for a moment.

"Mr. Grissom, I'm Dr. Ken Jones. I treated your injuries, and I just want to see how you are doing. I just want you to relax for a few minutes while I check you over. Are you experiencing any dizziness or headaches?" the doctor asked softly.

Grissom coughed and tried to clear his throat. "Yes, a little," came the hoarse whisper.

Jones poured a cup of water from the pitcher that was on the table-tray next to the bed. "Here, this might help a little," said the doctor as he gently slipped his hand behind Grissom's head and held the cup to the patient's parched lips.

"Thanks," came the voice that was a little clearer.

Putting the cup back down on the table-tray, Jones carefully picked up Grissom's left wrist and felt around the soft cast that surrounded the man's arm.

"This looks good. I had to reset your wrist and the swelling has gone down. I want to check your shoulder and ribs and then I'll be done," explained the doctor. He hesitated a moment, "Then Lu…your psychiatrist will be in to see you."

Working around the restraints, Jones ran his fingers firmly down both sides of Grissom's rib cage. Grunting from the pain that radiated from his ribs, Grissom tried to relax under the doctor's examination, but he stiffened from the probing fingers of the doctor.

"Sorry about that. I know this isn't pleasant, but I promise I'll be quick," said Jones with a slight smile when he noticed the grimace on his patient's face. Jones undid the snaps of the hospital gown at Grissom's left shoulder to check for infection from the gunshot wound.

"Your ribs will be sore for awhile, but they're healing nicely. Also the wound to your shoulder is coming right along, no sign of infection. I will have the nurse change the bandage later today. I'll also prescribe something for the dizziness and headache," said Jones.

Grissom merely nodded with confusion in his eyes. He wanted to ask Jones about the psychiatrist, but his lips could not form the words he wanted to say. _A psychiatrist? How long have I had a psychiatrist? What happened to warrant that? Where in the hell am I? I can't remember..._

Jones patted Grissom lightly on his leg and seeing the confusion in Grissom's eyes, said soothingly, "I'll be in later tonight to see how you are doing. We'll talk more then. I can see that you have questions, but right now I just want you to rest, okay?"

As the doctor left the ward, he encountered Lucas donning on a white lab coat. His cousin was obviously relishing his next encounter with Grissom and was eager to begin the man's "therapy."

"So Kenny, how is my dear friend? Probably confused as hell about what's going," snickered the would-be doctor.

Jones sighed and replied, "Yes, he's very confused right now. He's also holding on to enough of himself to be cautious. If you push too much at him, he won't buy into what you're trying to sell."

Ken Jones reached into the dispensary and withdrew the medication he was seeking. Preparing a syringe, the doctor headed back to the ward to administer to medication to Grissom.

"Wait, Kenny. What are you giving him? I want to know," Mallory asked.

"It's just something to alleviate the dizziness and headaches. Your little minions are going to have to go a little easier on your patient, **doctor"**, said Jones in a sarcastic tone. "He'll suffer brain damage or lapse into a coma from a skull fracture before you have a chance to play your silly little game. This medication will help him relax, but he'll still be able to process the twisted tale you're about to tell him."

"I've waited too long for this moment. I don't want to wait any longer," said Mallory stiffly.

"Fine, Lucas. Just let me administer these meds through his IV. He should be ready for you in about 5 minutes or so. The headaches should lessen enough that he won't hear the pounding in his head, just the pounding of your voice," continued Jones in the same sarcastic tone.

Then Jones changed his tone. "Why don't you get your guys here in their prison guard uniforms? Grissom will be more likely to believe you if he thinks that he's in a lock down facility rather than an out-of-the-way clinic," said Jones in a conciliatory tone, trying to buy a little more time to be with Grissom alone.

Mallory smiled, "Great idea, Kenny! The more evidence we can shove at Grissom, the more he'll believe what a wretch he truly is."

Jones watched his cousin take off to find his two sycophants and then quickly entered the ward to give the injured man the needed medication.

******************************

Scott (aka Arthur) left the complex. He had finished his rounds and had decided to take off into the Nevada desert. The surrounding desert was as familiar to Scott as the back of his hand. He knew little of the rest of the world except what he learned through Jones. The young man had a quick intellect and an intense curiosity, a trait his mother had often attributed to his biological father. When he was growing up, he spent many hours in the desert, exploring the terrain and learning how to survive in this harsh environment. It wasn't unusual for the Scott to disappear for hours after his rounds were completed. Scott knew he wouldn't be missed.

He needed time away to consider what he had learned from the woman named Sara. She inherently seemed to know what he was thinking. This complex, Jones, and the staff was the only life that he knew. Scott had learned to trust Jones to a certain extent, but there was something always holding him back in truly embracing the man. Perhaps it was the sense that his mother always seemed stiff and uneasy around the man, and that she was an entirely different person when Scott was alone with her. Jones had always been kind to him and often took the time to teach him what he knew. The two of them had often taken backpacking trips out into the desert where Jones had taught him desert survival.

Now things seemed different. When Jones' cousin had arrived a few months back, things changed. He wasn't sure why except that Ken Jones seemed to be constantly on edge. They used to spend time together hiking out in the desert, exploring and discovering. They hadn't done that since this cousin had arrived. When Lucas Mallory arrived at the clinic, Jones had introduced him to Scott as his cousin, a psychiatrist who had treated and known his biological father. At first, Mallory had stared at Scott with such malice and hate that Scott involuntarily took a step back. Quickly that look disappeared and Mallory nodded, smiled slightly, and shook his hand, saying that he was finally glad to meet the son of his dear old friend. There was something about the way that Mallory spoke to him that caused shivers to run up and down his spine.

Scott thought back to when the man, his father, in the hospital ward had been brought to the clinic. Scott had gone with the two men who had been sent to Vegas to fetch him. Jones had told Scott that this man was his real father. Lucas informed Scott that Grissom was being held in seclusion in a safe house in Vegas and that Lucas' intent was to help Grissom through his addiction and perhaps start a new life. The police wanted to use Grissom to get to the drug lords who had a stranglehold on the police department and the city of Las Vegas. According to Mallory, Grissom was a mole in the department and was on the take. He had been ratted out and, now for protection from the drug lords and for immunity, Grissom had agreed to testify and give the police all that he knew about the organization. Mallory explained that Grissom was a marked man whether he helped the police or not. That seemed to fit since there were uniformed policemen at the house seemingly guarding him. His father had been pretty out of it- obviously injured and on some kind drug.

Scott hiked to his favorite perch, a cliff that overlooked the complex that was dotted with Joshua trees. He sat down and thought about Sara. Even though he knew very little about her, she reminded him of his own mother. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so familiar except that she knew some things about him that no one else knew. Only his mother had ever called him Scott. Jones only knew him as Arthur and never used his first name. Sara had told him that she knew his father, the man known as Grissom, but that she had never met Rachel Grissom, but knew of her through his father. Scott didn't tell her much of anything, but mostly watched her hesitantly sign and voice her side of the conversation. She mainly asked how Grissom was doing and wondered if he could take her to him. Scott had indicated to Sara that he couldn't do that, and she had slumped back on her cot, somewhat defeated. Scott had left then, signing back that he was sorry but that he would visit with her again soon.

He was confused about all that had transpired since the arrival of Mallory. The atmosphere at the clinic seemed to be charged with tension. The general staff didn't seem affected since Mallory and his two assistants kept to themselves, but Jones uncharacteristically snapped at the staff and, that in itself, has caused tension to rise. He needed to know more about this Grissom, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. Scott felt that Jones was not being truthful with him and Mallory was just plain scary.

Sara was being locked up in one of the wings away from all the other patients, and, as far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with her short of being somewhat depressed and paranoid from being locked up, isolated, and worried about Grissom. Why was she being held a prisoner? When Scott had asked Jones about Sara, Jones had indicated that Sara was connected to Grissom and that, even though she seemed perfectly sane and reasonable, she was suffering from delusions. Scott didn't believe a word he had said. Perhaps Sara would have answers he was seeking. Watching the sun being to set down low over the horizon, Scott stood up and slowly made his way down back to the clinic.

*********************************

Captain Jim Brass and Catherine Willows sat in front of Conrad Ecklie's desk. The door was closed, and Brass could see waves of fury rolling off the strawberry blonde sitting next to him. Brass was beyond anger himself, and turned to face the assistant director of the crime lab.

In a controlled voice, Brass said in a measured tone, "The DA wants the surveillance on McKeen stopped. Grissom and Sidle are still missing. You want Graveyard to move on?"

Ecklie shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. "Look, there are other cases that need to be taken care of. Days and swing can't keep picking up the load for grave. The surveillance has gone on for more than a week and nothing untoward come up. It's a waste of manpower and time. Besides, the political fallout from this could be devastating for the whole department. You don't have any direct evidence linking the under sheriff with Gil and Sara's abductions. I'm not telling you to drop Gil's and Sara's abduction. Keep working on it, but graveyard has got to pick up some of the slack."

Seething, Catherine glared at the assistant director. "Conrad, every minute, every second that goes by lessens the chances that we will both of them alive. The team has been working doubles and triples following up on the slightest leads. Give us more time, please," Catherine said tightly.

"Catherine, you're the graveyard supervisor right now, and I need your cooperation on this. It's been almost two weeks. Look, I can send cases to you that are easy and just need the follow through, but grave has got to pick up some of the load. If after what has been assigned to grave has been taken care of, by all means, continue to work on the case. I'm not telling you to shelve the case. It just can't be grave's only case," said Ecklie in a conciliatory tone.

Catherine stood up, and said pointedly, "You know, Conrad, if it had been you or anyone else in the department, Gil would have moved heaven and earth to find you. It would have been his only case, and he wouldn't have been distracted by office politics." Catherine turned and angrily left the office, slamming the door behind her.

Brass stood up and turned to Ecklie. "She's right, you know, but I will talk to her. Gil and Sara are MY priority right now and grave WILL move heaven and earth to find them." The seasoned detective gave the assistant director one last look and left the office.

************************

Nick Stokes looked up from the file he was thumbing through, examining the documents that were held within. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he watched Catherine storm into the layout room with assignment slips in her hand. Greg looked at her questioningly, and Warrick waited patiently as she tried to calm down by taking a deep breath.

"Okay, guys- by orders of the assistant director, we need to start picking up the slack. I have assignments for us. They should go pretty quickly and we can get back to Gil and Sara's case," she said quickly, daring for any of the guys to challenge her.

"Catherine, we're just supposed to drop the case, and IF we have time we work on finding Grissom and Sara?" asked Nick incredulously.

"Look, the assignment slips are here, let's just get through this so that we can get back to working the case, said Catherine with a sigh. "Greg, there's a B&E out on Industrial. Nick, take this trick roll over at the Tangiers. Warrick, check out missing person's case over in Henderson. I'll...I'll stay here and look over the documents that were just sent over from the county assessor and from Folsom State Prison where Mallory was serving his time. Let's get going guys."

Both Greg and Warrick took their assignment slips, grabbed their jackets, and walked quickly out of the room. The sooner they wrapped up their cases, the quicker they would be back to looking for leads for their missing friends.

Nick hesitated before taking his own assignment slip. "A trick roll takes precedence over finding Grissom and Sara? This really sucks, Catherine," said a disgusted Nick Stokes as he headed out the door, brushing by Brass who was just outside the door.

Catherine leaned against the table and shut her eyes. Frustration was building up in her and she wanted to strike out at anyone who came near. Captain Brass, sensing an explosion about the erupt, quietly entered the layout room and gently put his hand on her arm. "Vartann is checking with the gang unit. Mallory is tied up with the drug lords and with some major players. We're not giving up here."

Catherine gave Brass a wan smile. "Thanks. It's just that we have come up with so many dead ends. Something has got to give."

A/N: It has been a lot longer than I intended to post this chapter. My apologies to everyone out there. Life has been getting in the way. Please review as they are appreciated, and I could always use the encouragement.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 14**_

Grissom noticed the uniformed officers enter with the "doctor" and take positions near the door. He warily watched the man in the white coat settle down in the chair he had pulled up next to Grissom's hospital bed. Waves of nausea rolled over him, but the dizziness and headache that he had experienced earlier had retreated to a distant memory thanks to the medication that Dr. Jones had given him in his IV. Grissom tried to remember what had happened, but everything seemed fuzzy and out of focus. He tried to move his hands, and then remembered the restraints. The confused man settled down against the pillow under his head and turned his attention to "doctor" seated next to the bed.

The "doctor" regarded him for a moment and smiled slightly. "How are you feeling, Gil? I imagine that you feel a little disoriented right now. The medication that Dr. Jones gave you should be taking hold by now. How's the head feel? Still feel a little lightheaded?" asked the "doctor."

Grissom thought for a moment before replying. "Headache and dizziness are gone. I…I don't remember much of anything. Where am I? I should know you. You seem familiar…I can't seem to place you…" said Grissom in a faltering voice.

"Dr. Mallory. Dr. Lucas Mallory. Does that sound at all familiar to you?" inquired the "doctor."

_Mallory…Lucas Mallory…something from my past…but what?...something happened…something bad…can't remember…_ Grissom tried to recall why that name should trigger a sudden surge of trepidation. "A little…I should know you from the past…you and I…"struggled Grissom in a hoarse whisper.

"Gil, let's start with what you do remember, shall we?" interrupted Mallory in a patient tone. "Tell me your full name, birth date, where you were born."

"Gilbert Arthur Grissom. I…I…my birthdate is August 17, 1956. I was born in Santa Monica, California but grew up in Marina Del Rey," he replied in a quiet voice.

Looking towards the doctor and then glancing down at his right wrist and left arm, Grissom cleared his throat and whispered, "Why the restraints? Can they be taken off, please?"

"Gil, the restraints are for your own protection. Your last episode was quite violent. You really gave the guards over there a hard time. Gave Officer Baker quite a shiner. For the time being, Gil, you will have to put up them," said Mallory.

"Don't…don't call me that. Don't call me Gil. I'd..um..prefer Grissom, please," said Grissom looking away. _I don't want this man calling me Gil. I don't trust him. Why? We obviously had some kind of history together…_

Mallory seemed momentarily taken aback and then his eyes slightly narrowed. "Okay, Grissom, then. Can you tell me why?" inquired the "physician."

_I can't tell him that I don't trust him. I don't. Something is off. This all feels wrong. I need to see someone more familiar…to anchor myself. _"I don't know why. "Grissom" just seems more comfortable somehow," was the reply.

The man gave him a shrug, "Okay, then Grissom it is," he said with a smile. "Do you remember what happened prior to being in the hospital wing? You were coming down from a high…crashing rather badly it seems."

The memory of the "episode" that landed him in restraints came crashing through. The familiar sense of panic descended down upon him. Suddenly the room started to constrict, and he found it hard to take a breath. He thought he might vomit as the bile rose in his throat. He looked wildly at the man sitting next to him and then at the guards. Grissom started to shake uncontrollably.

"I don't…I don't understand…I don't…I haven't…" gasped the panicked man.

Mallory stood up and laid a firm hand on his Grissom's shoulder and said softly, "Grissom, you're still in denial. It looks like we have our work cut out for us, don't we? I can see that you remember me telling you about your possible prison term and what landed you here. You need to accept this before you can move on and truly get well. I'm going to give you a little something to help you relax. We'll work this out together, and you'll be able to face your addiction and face your actions. Then you'll be able to move forward."

Grissom tried to calm himself. He didn't want to be given anything. Eyeing the syringe that seemed to magically appear in Mallory's hand, Grissom anxiously pleaded, "No…no…I'll be okay…I just need to think. Please, I don't want to be given everything. Please, don't give…" _I just need control. I need to feel steady, not out of balance. _

Mallory ignored Grissom's pleading and injected into the IV line a powerful combination of hypnotic and hallucinogenic drugs. The restrained man's eyes quickly glazed over and his breathing slowed. Mallory observed Grissom's hands slowly unclench and relax under the restraints. He watched Grissom settle back down in the bed gazing sightlessly at the ceiling and the "doctor" smiled widely.

"That's better, my friend. You and I are going to become close friends. You are stronger than I anticipated. Maybe Kenny was right. I'll end up killing you before the game is finished. But it doesn't mean that we won't have some fun before it ends."

Mallory patted Grissom's leg fondly and, humming to himself, left Grissom swimming through a haze of confusion.

***************************

Scott observed Sara through the narrow window of the door. He needed to connect with her so he had made the excuse that she had requested some additional toiletries. Although the monitors to her cell were constantly on, he knew that he could safely "talk" with her without being observed as Mallory was busy with Grissom and Jones was making rounds with the other patients housed in the other section of the clinic. Still, he needed to make sure that his back was to the camera just to be safe so that they could not be observed conversing with one another.

Unlocking the door and walking over to the woman sitting on the cot, Scott handed her the bottle of shampoo and soap he held in his hands. Sara accepted them with a questioning look but thanking him all the same with a gesture of her hand.

How are you feeling today? gestured Scott putting a slight smile on his face.

Sara signed back, I'm okay, Scott.

Scott hesitated for a moment, not sure how to proceed with the questions he had in mind.

Sara signed again. Scott, what is it? You want to ask me something.

There's nothing wrong with you, not like the other patients. Why are you here? Why a prisoner? What do you have to do with the man they say is my father? Scott signed in a rush.

Sara smiled wanly and said softly and gesturing at the same time, "Scott, I hope that you can read lips because my signing is a little rough, but I will sign what I can."

Scott smiled back and nodded and indicated his ears. I can hear, too, but probably not as well as you. Then he shrugged. Nobody knows how much I can hear, not even Jones. I haven't let anyone know. Everyone treats me as though I'm totally deaf.

"Grissom and I work together. We're both scientists, crime scene investigators. Umm, we're good friends…closer than most," Sara said, not sure how much to reveal to Scott the nature of the relationship she had with Grissom.

She continued, "I'm not sure why I'm here except that it has something to do with Grissom. This Mallory wants to hurt him somehow. I got caught up in the middle and was taken prisoner."

Scott gave her a quizzical look. Why hurt him?

"For revenge. Grissom was responsible for sending him to prison for murder," replied Sara.

Scott shook his head. My father is an addict and has hurt other people. That's why I ended up I'm here. To keep me safe from him. Dr. Mallory was his therapist and my father turned on him. My father should be in prison.

Sara stared at Scott. Slowly she articulated her words, "No, Scott, you've been fed lies. Grissom is a good man, an honorable man. Mallory is the evil one here."

The young man took a step back. Sara had given him more questions than answers. If he trusted what Sara had told him, then how much could he trust Jones? Jones had been that father to him because Grissom was not there. Jones had raised him and had taken him under his wing. Denial and anger crossed his face. That means Jones has been lying to me my whole life. That can't be true. He's been my father, not, not this Grissom!

Sara quickly signed and said, "Scott, Grissom never had that chance. He thought you and your mother were dead. He never knew you were alive. If he had, he would have done anything to find you. Surely your mother talked about him. What did she tell you?"

Scott shook his head violently. No, you're wrong. This can't be true. Grissom is not what you think. He's fooled you just like he fooled my mother. My mother…my mother, she told me he was dead and that he was an honorable man. But I know now that she lied because he's not dead. I'm in no way related to that man strapped down in the hospital wing. You should see him. He's a wreck. He can't be my father. He back quickly out of the room, slammed the metal door, locking Sara in once more.

Sara sat back in defeat. _Well, that just went great. What was I thinking? I pushed too much at him. Good thing I didn't tell him about us. Now what?_

_***********************************_

The under sheriff was feeling pretty good about things. As far as he knew, Ecklie had told Graveyard to move on. He would go to Grissom's team and voice his frustration and tell them he would investigate the case himself and not rest until the two were found. McKeen just didn't know that he himself had been under surveillance. The under sheriff did not realize that to Grissom's team, he was still their number one suspect.

Under Sheriff McKeen walked briskly through the crime lab looking for Catherine Willows. He would be properly upset and concerned over the fact that the investigation was not going well. McKeen had covered his bases and was not about to make any mistakes now. The missing CSI's would be taken care of in due course and no one would ever know his ties to Mallory or the 5th Street Knights. In fact, McKeen would turn out to be the hero in all this and so Jeffrey McKeen was willing to bide his time.

"Willows!" he said in a serious tone as he entered Grissom's office.

Catherine looked up from the file she was perusing and quickly closed it. She shook out her long blonde hair and cocked her head to one side. "Under Sheriff, what can I do for you?" she said in an icy tone.

Hesitating at the sudden drop of temperature that seemed to have permeated the room, McKeen cleared his throat. "I just dropped by to let you know that even though Graveyard has been ordered to move on to other cases, Grissom and Sidle will continue to be my top priority."

"Right. Thanks Under Sheriff. I'll tell my guys, and I'm sure that my guys will appreciate that you'll be doing everything you can to find Grissom and Sara," said Catherine stiffly.

"Well, I should be going. You'll keep me informed of any new evidence that your team comes up with?" McKeen asked as he turned to exit the office.

"Of course. You'll be the first we call if anything turns up," said Catherine.

"I'll look forward to talking to you then," said McKeen.

"Like hell we will," muttered Catherine under her breath, opening the file in front of her.

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than I anticipated. I had to divide it somewhere and thought this might be a good place to do so. As always, please review. I anxiously await all your thoughts……


	15. Chapter 15

_**Journey Through the Past- chapter 15**_

An angry young man with intense cerulean-blue eyes made his way to a carefully tended area of the clinic complex. The garden out here was a peaceful oasis in the otherwise desolate background of the Nevada desert. Scott's mother, Rachel, had convinced Jones to allow her to landscape and design this acre of paradise. In fact, Jones had provided everything she had requested, and the two of them, over the years, spent many hours working out here, clearing the land and tending to the plants. When Scott was old enough, he had spent numerous hours here learning botany and entomology. Now, Scott and Jones tended the garden where they worked together in memory of his mother.

Scott made his way to the small section of the land that had been reserved as a small graveyard for the patients who had died here but had no family to claim their bodies. There were only a handful of graves here, but one figured prominently among the few tombstones placed in the white fenced area. Running his hands through his short curly brown hair, Scott dropped to his knees before the white marble headstone that marked where his mother was buried. Tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to control his ragged breathing.

He stared at the engraved epitaph on her tombstone. _Rachel Grissom Jones- May you find the peace that you couldn't find in this life._

Angrily he wiped the tears from his eyes. Scott sat back and wrapped his arms around his knees. He wasn't sure why he had come to his mother's gravesite. His memory of her seemed to grow dimmer with each passing year. She had died almost eight years before, but he still remembered the night that she had passed away. His mother spent many hours in the garden that she and Jones had built. Even though the work in the garden was hard and demanding, it seemed to be a kind of therapy for her. Scott remembered that she rarely smiled except for when she was alone with her son or when she was tending to the plants that made up this oasis. She would save the brightest smiles for him.

It was that way when she died that night after developing a high fever that had lasted several days. Jones had frantically tried every antibiotic and treatment that he knew but it was of no avail. She had drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes coherent, sometimes not. In her delirium, she had spoken Grissom's name over and over, begging forgiveness. When the fever finally broke, Rachel had awakened with a calmness that Scott had never seen in her. She did not have to strength to recover from the infection that had invaded her body.

Rachel knew that she was dying, and Jones would not leave her side. Scott remembered sleeping in a cot close to her hospital bed, ironically, the same hospital bed Grissom was currently strapped down in. He had watched her writhe in pain and wished there was something he could do to give his mother relief. In the end, Rachel had held Jones' hand and made him promise to take care of "Arthur." Jones had readily agreed, having grown attached to the boy. The doctor who had reluctantly and resentfully taken this woman and child in some eleven and half years ago had fallen in love with them both. Though he couldn't hear what she whispered to Jones as he held her hand, Scott knew that his mother had asked Jones to allow her a few moments alone with her son. Jones had nodded and motioned for Scott to come sit at the edge of the bed next to his mother. The doctor then quietly left the room, leaving the dying mother alone with her child.

Scott, you know that I love you, right? she had signed to him.

The twelve-year old nodded with wide eyes. The brightest smile spread across her face as tears started to form in her eyes.

I don't want to leave you, you know that, don't you?

Again he nodded. You are going to be all right? Scott had signed back.

No, honey. I'm not going to be all right.

Scott violently shook his head. You have to be okay. You have to be. He signed emphatically.

Scott, honey, I need you to be brave. Jones will take care of you, but when you are old enough, find Grissom, your father. Rachel signed.

She drew a ragged breath and looked at Grissom's son. He was so much like his father in mind and temperament. She closed her eyes and could feel her meager strength waning. Rachel felt soft hands gently stroke her hair and face, and once more, she opened her eyes. Scott was staring at her with similar intense eyes she remembered from so long ago.

Carefully, she signed and spoke to him, knowing that he could hear her, "Remember all that I have taught you." Scott nodded slowly as he clutched her hands tightly. Rachel died later that night leaving behind a grieving child who depended solely upon her and a man who had fallen deeply in love with her.

Scott looked across the desert over his mother's tombstone. The first year or two after his mother's passing had been difficult. Jones had gone out of his way to comfort the boy, but Scott retreated within himself with every attempt the doctor made to try to reach out to him. Though Scott and Jones worked together regularly in the garden or had gone exploring the Nevada desert, Jones could not break through the protective wall the boy had built around himself. Scott knew that Jones deeply loved both him and his mother, but his mother had never returned Jones affections. She had eventually agreed to a "marriage" of sorts, but Scott knew that his mother's heart was not in the relationship. It had always been somewhere else.

Scott thought about the man who had raised him. While he respected Jones, Scott could not bring himself to truly accept Jones as the father that he never had. Perhaps it was because he knew how his mother felt about Jones. He didn't quite know. Scott's thoughts turned to the Grissom. It seemed that all that had been told to him by both Jones and "Uncle Mallory" was true about the man in the hospital ward. Scott had seen many patients who struggled with addiction and witnessed first hand the signs of denial and withdrawal. The Grissom that his mother described to him so many years ago didn't seem to fit the profile of the man currently going through withdrawal.

Scott wasn't sure what to do. He was gifted with a scientific mind that had been trained by a scientist early on. Rachel had taught him that he could learn much through forming questions and that keen observation, more often than not, would help him in answering those questions. Taking one last look at his mother's grave, he turned and walked through the gardens back to the clinic.

************************************

Grissom was coming down from the latest dose from Mallory. As the drugs started to wear off, his body started to crave more of the drugs that had been constantly in his system as of late. Cramps and nausea descended upon him and all that he wished for was for the cramping to stop. Grissom broke out in a cold sweat and he started to shake uncontrollably. He arched his back in an effort to gain some kind of control over his convulsing body. Gasping for air, he strained against the restraints, heedless of his fractured ribs or broken left wrist. Clenching his teeth, he tried to not to scream in panic and only partially succeeded, letting out a loud moan instead.

Wildly looking around the hospital ward, Grissom saw one of the two guards leave and bring back Ken Jones.

"Please, make it stop," Grissom begged through clenched teeth.

Jones quickly inserted the syringe into Grissom's IV and watched as the patient's trembling gradually tapered off. He slowly relaxed as the cramping slowly eased off and the revolt in his stomach settled back into an uneasy rumbling.

Grissom gasped a weak, "Thank you."

"The dose I gave you will dissipate the worst of the withdrawal symptoms," Jones said. "Dr. Mallory would like to continue the work you two started together, but I must warn you that what you face won't be easy. That's why the guards are here and why you're still in restraints. Mallory would like to start slow and you just say the word, you can stop. I'd like to remove the restraints, Grissom, if that's all right."

Swallowing hard, Grissom slowly nodded his head in affirmation to the loosening of the leather straps wrapped around his wrists and across his chest and legs. As Jones stepped back, the guards stepped forward and proceeded to undo the straps holding Grissom.

The patient lifted his hands to rub his arms and found that his limbs had stiffened from being in the same position for so long. Jones put down the clipboard and file folder that he had brought in and gently massaged Grissom's arms until the man in the bed could move his arms a little easier. Reaching for the controls on the bed, he raised Grissom to a sitting position.

"Grissom, it has been a while since you have eaten. You should eat something before beginning. I will have an orderly bring in some food for you. I know that your stomach probably feels a little queasy right now, but trust me, you will feel better if you have some nourishment in your system.

Nodding, Grissom sighed and asked in a low voice, "How long was I out this time?"

"It was only a few hours, but your episodes are becoming less violent. That's a good thing. Umm…don't try to get out of bed. Let's wait until you've something to eat. You'll probably fall flat on your face if you try to get out of bed too soon. After you eat and rest a bit, I will have some clothing brought to you. Those hospital gowns aren't the most comfortable or fashionable things in the world," said Jones with a slight smile. "After, we'll get you up and see if you can get your sea legs," he added.

Jones nodded to the guards, indicating that the patient would be okay to be left just resting in bed; that they needn't worry about the restraints. Taking the clipboard and file folder, he made his way through the swinging double doors of the ward where his cousin was eagerly waiting to know how Grissom was faring.

Lucas smiled broadly at his cousin as Jones slid the clipboard in the slot that had Grissom's name taped.

"Lucas, he needs to eat something before you go in and start with him again. Let him gain a little strength. It seems he is pretty pliable right now. He is remembering that he is having "episodes." He's just not realizing they're drug-induced," said Jones, trying to buy Grissom a little time before the next session with his cousin.

"Sure, whatever you say, Kenny," Mallory said jovially. "I've waited this long for my revenge. What's a little while longer?"

"Good. I'll have some soup and crackers brought to him. Also, when Ellen brings the food, I'll have her also bring in some patient sweats for him. She'll need to also give him a sponge bath. I'll remove the catheter in a few minutes before she comes. I'm not sure that he is quite ready to be ambulatory, but the removal of the catheter should be a relief," said Jones as he made notes in Grissom's file..

"Hmm…Kenny, I'd like Sara to bring him his food. Ellen can do the rest, but I'd like to see what he remembers of the recent past. I'll instruct her in what she needs to do in order for to keep seeing him. She'll cooperate, I'm sure," said Mallory with a smirk. "I'll have some scrubs for her to wear so it will seem like she is an orderly here, instead of a "patient."

Jones raised his eyebrows. "Fine, do what you have to do. But remember Arthur stays out of it," muttered the doctor.

"Grissom's son is an important part of my plan, dear cousin," said Mallory, "but I promise that whatever he is feeling towards his father now, it will turn to hate when he finds out what a lowlife Grissom really is. That would be good for you. I know how attached you are to him, though I don't why. The kid is somewhat of a freak."

"No thanks to you, Lucas," countered Jones. "It's a wonder that he has any semblance of normalcy with all that has happened. He just better not get hurt with all this scheming," Jones said protectively.

Mallory just laughed, "You worry too much, cousin."

Thinking for a moment, Ken Jones turned to Mallory. "Why don't you let me prep Sara? She'll be more receptive to me than you at this point. I'm sure I can persuade her to cooperate fully. Otherwise, I think it might be a battle."

"Okay, Kenny. Whatever you say…just make sure she understands clearly that she is only taking Grissom his food and not giving him any information," said Mallory with a wide grin.

Jones rolled his eyes, sighed, and made his way back into the ward to remove the catheter from Grissom.

***********************

Sara nervously paced the small room. She hadn't seen Scott since he had backed out of the room so upset. Sara wasn't sure what to say to Scott if he were to make his way back to her cell. The slim brunette turned when she heard the lock in the door turn. As far as Sara could tell, it wasn't time for her next meal, so she eyed the door warily.

Her curiosity was aroused when Jones entered the room carrying a set of surgical scrubs much like she had seen Scott wear. Behind him was Baker, dressed as a prison guard.

"Here. Put these on," said the doctor as he handed Sara the clothing. "Baker here is going to escort you to the hospital ward where you have the chance to see Grissom. He is awake, and he's feeling much better than the last time you saw him."

Glancing over his shoulder at Baker, Jones nodded his head and Baker stepped out of the room, leaving the doctor alone with Sara.

"Sara, there are some conditions to which you must follow or the circumstances could harm both you and him. Please play along with this," said Jones in a low voice.

"What if I don't want to play this game?" Sara hissed. "What will happen?"

"Lucas will probably want to drug you and your life won't be worth spit," said Jones. "If you cooperate, there might be a way out of this for both you and Grissom. But I can't make any promises right now."

"Why help us? What's in it for you? Why not just let us go now?"

"Because Arthur's life is at stake, and I can't risk that."

"Speaking of Arthur, he's Grissom's son, isn't he? Does Grissom know that he is alive? For that matter, what about his mother? Is Rachel somewhere around here too?" asked Sara angrily.

A shadow of pain passed over Ken Jones' face and he turned away from Sara. "Just…Just change into these scrubs and do what I tell you to do. There are closed-circuit monitors in the ward so we'll know if you don't follow the script. I'll be back in a few minutes so that you can change," said Jones in a tight voice.

A/N: Another chapter up. I think I'm on a roll now and the story is starting to flow a little easier. What do you all think? There are a few twists and turns yet to come. We'll just have to see how the characters want to play this out. Please review and big thanks to all who have reviewed. It really keeps me going.


	16. Chapter 16

**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 16**

Sara stared at the closed door and slowly turned to the clothing that was lying on the bed. She stripped down and donned the scrubs that Jones had left for her. She slipped on the rubber-soled shoes that he had also included with the scrubs. Sara wriggled her feet around. She had gone nearly three weeks without any shoes at all and now they seemed heavy and awkward on her feet. Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to smooth out as many tangles as she could and then tied her hair back with a hair band that Scott had given her when he had provided some toiletries.

When she was ready, she walked over to the door and knocked, signaling that she was ready to see Grissom. The door swung open, and Jones entered with Baker right behind him. "Sara, Sam here is going to cuff you for the walk over to the ward. Mallory doesn't want you to get any ideas about escaping. When we get to the other building, he'll take the cuffs off. Understand?" asked Jones.

Sara grimly nodded her head and took a step forward.

"Hold your hands out," instructed Sam Baker. Sara held out her hands and winced as the ex-convict fastened the handcuffs on a little too tightly.

Taking Sara by the arm, Ken Jones led her out into the hallway and out the iron door to the bright Nevada sunshine. Sara lifted her cuffed hands to her eyes and squinted against the brightness. The threesome strolled across the complex and entered a squat cinderblock building. As they entered the building, Sara observed a nurse emerging from a pair of swinging doors. The nurse took a clipboard out of the slot with Grissom's name on it and made some notes.

Looking up, she nodded her head and reported, "Dr. Jones, the patient has been bathed and has on the sweats that you ordered. He's resting comfortably as well as can be expected considering the withdrawal."

"Thanks, Ellen. We'll take it from here. Has the soup arrived from the kitchen?" asked Jones. Ellen nodded and pointed to a cart that was parked next to the nurses' station. Ellen glanced briefly at Sara in the orderly garb and the handcuffs on her wrists with a questioning look in her eyes.

"That will be all, Ellen. Please check on Charlie in Building A. He's been asking for you," Jones said with a grin. Ellen gave the doctor a small smile and left.

"Charlie has a crush on her. She keeps telling him the relationship would never work seeing how he's 90, and she's happily married with a two year old," said Jones trying to put Sara at ease. He watched Sam Baker take the handcuffs off Sara's wrist. Baker then joined his partner just inside the swinging doors.

"What did she mean "as well as can be expected considering the withdrawal?" queried Sara as she rubbed her wrists. "What have you guys done to him?"

Jones turned to Sara, "He's addicted to a combination of hallucinogenic, narcotic, and hypnotic drugs, a special concoction that Lucas dreamed up. He has amnesia in the sense that he can't remember the recent past. He remembers who is and the basics of his childhood, but he doesn't remember much beyond that. Right now, he's going through withdrawal and the physical and well as the psychological symptoms that entails. Seeing a familiar face might jar some of his memories."

"So what do you want me to do?" asked Sara, as she anxiously glanced toward the double-doors. "What do you want me to say if he remembers me?"

"Keep the talk minimal. You may tell him your first name if he asks, but beyond that, nothing. If he remembers you, tell him he's mistaken. He'll probably believe you," said Jones. "He may be uncommunicative, anyway. Lucas wants to see what he remembers and, frankly, so do I. I want to keep the damage that Lucas is planning to a minimum, but in order for me to do that, I need to know where he is at."

As he finished speaking, Mallory breezed through the entrance of the building. Looking at Sara with a sneer on his face, he asked his cousin, "Have you briefed her on what she is to do and what to say and not say?"

Jones sighed. "Yes, Lucas, she has been briefed, and she knows that if she doesn't follow to the letter our instructions, the consequences will be harsh for both her and Grissom."

Walking around the counter, Mallory seated himself in front of the set of monitors.

"Okay, then, let's get this show on the road. Remember, my pet, if you don't want Grissom to suffer any more than he has, don't do anything stupid," said Mallory with all seriousness.

Sara turned her head and simply stared at the door. She walked over to the cart and pushed it through the doors.

At first glance, she noticed that Grissom was the only patient in the ward. Sara looked up and took notice of where the cameras were placed. Two cameras were mounted in the upper wall opposite of Grissom's bed. They were able to observe Grissom fully, but, unless one turned to face the camera directly, only the back of anyone ministering to the patient would be seen. She paused momentarily to observe the man in the bed. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the man before her. The hospital bed had been adjusted so that Grissom was in a sitting position. Sara observed that leather restraints were attached to the bed, but, at the moment, were not being used. He looked considerably better than she had last seen him. Though his beard was neatly trimmed, courtesy of Ellen, and he was wearing clean clothing, Grissom still had a haggard appearance. The bruises about his face had faded, but dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, which gave him a gaunt appearance. Grissom did not turn to look at her when she entered the room. Instead, he sat in the bed with his eyes tightly closed and was nervously chewing on his lower lip. His arms were wrapped around himself as if he were literally trying to keep himself from falling apart at the seams. His hands were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Hey," she called softly, "I brought you something to eat."

When he didn't respond, she walked tentatively closer to the bed and moved the table tray to the bed. Grissom was breathing in slow measured breaths, keeping his eyes tightly closed. Anger started to rise in Sara, and it was all she could do not to rush to his side.

She tried again, a little louder. "Hey, there. I brought you something to eat," she repeated, touching him softly on his leg.

Grissom jumped slightly, startled both by Sara's touch and her voice. The tremors had started rather abruptly, and it was all he could do to stop them by holding himself tightly. The voice sounded vaguely familiar and he opened his eyes to see a slim brunette in orderly garb placing a covered tray in front of him on the tray table. She was staring at him intently, her brow wrinkled with concern. Their eyes locked momentarily as Grissom stared at her. _I should know her. I've seen her before. Something..something important…something precious…_

Grissom continued to stare at her as she removed the cover from the tray. He turned his attention to the soup and crackers that was placed before him. He realized he was hungry, but when he unwrapped his hands from his sides, the trembling took over.

"I…I… do I …could you…I don't think…," Grissom stammered, as he lifted his shaking right hand to try to grab the spoon, only to send it clattering to the floor. He sat back in defeat and embarrassment. Grissom resorted to going back to wrapping his arms about himself in a futile attempt to stop the shaking.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, really. I'll… I'll be back in a minute with a clean spoon and help you with the soup, all right?" said Sara, trying to reassure him. Grissom gave her a tight nod, and she bent down, picked up the spoon, and quickly left the room.

"You did well. I don't think that he quite remembers you; otherwise his reaction would have been more pronounced at seeing you. I think that next…," said a gleeful Mallory.

Jones interrupted in a worried tone, "The symptoms should not be this pronounced this soon. I want to give him another low dose to ease them off. Nausea and disorientation are probably starting to make him feel sick. He needs some real food in his system. Grissom isn't going to survive much longer just on IV's. He won't be able to keep anything down if it's allowed to get any worse."

Jones reached into the locked cabinet next to the nurses' station, pulled out a prepared syringe, and grabbed Grissom's chart. "I'll be back in a minute," the doctor said as he entered to ward to administer the dose to Grissom.

Defiantly, Sara reached for a clean spoon on a stand near the door. "I'm going back in there, and help him with the soup," said Sara in a low voice, daring Mallory to stop her.

Mallory grinned as he looked up from the monitors, "Fine, just wait a minute or two for Kenny to give him the dose. Then you can help him if that is your wish. Remember, Sara, no tricks. You don't want to make it any worse for him."

Sara gave Mallory a glare and glanced at the monitors, watching Jones administer the "meds" in Grissom's IV. She watched as the exhausted man slightly relax against his pillows. Sara turned and pushed her way through the doors. She grabbed a towel on her way to the bed, and announced to Grissom that she was back. He had pushed the table tray away and was still trying to controlling the trembling that was overtaking his body. Jones was taking his vitals, speaking to Grissom in a low voice.

"How's the stomach? Your heart rate is slowing down and your blood pressure is leveling out. How's the dizziness?" murmured Jones, jotting down notes on the clipboard.

Grissom had wrapped his arms around himself again, but was slowly relaxing as the tremors lessened. "Stomach's better, and so the dizziness," gasped Grissom softly.

Jones nodded and stepped back to allow Sara to get closer to the patient. Deciding that he was in good hands, the doctor gave Sara a slight nod of his head and left the ward.

"Let's see if you can keep anything down then, shall we?" Sara ventured forward with the spoon and towel. She continued, "I'll help you with the soup. It'll be cold by the time the tremors completely stop so let me help you get something to eat."

Grissom turned weary eyes to the young woman and nodded his assent. Sara gave him a tentative smile and spread the towel over Grissom's chest to catch any spillage. She dipped the spoon into the soup and proceeded to feed him. His eyes reflected a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

After several spoonfuls, Grissom held up his right hand to let her know that she could stop. "Thanks. I…I appreciate you helping me. I think that I can handle it now," whispered Grissom. To prove it, he lifted both hands to her to show her that there was only a slight shaking of his hands.

"Well, good then," Sara said with a bright smile, "It was my pleasure. It does look like you can handle it. I'll…um…I'll just go and I'll be back in few minutes to fetch the tray. Will that be okay?"

Grissom gave her a slight smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Yes. Thanks again, he said in a quiet voice and then looked away in embarrassment.

As Sara turned away to leave in order to give him some privacy, Grissom turned and watched her as she left the ward. He didn't reach for the spoon but continued to stare at the doors through which Sara had gone.Bits of memory were filtering through and he tried to make sense of them. _She never told me her name, but I know her name is Sara. She was a part of my life at one point, wasn't she? _Then, for some strange reason, all of a sudden he knew. He didn't know how or why she was here. He didn't know why she was pretending to be an orderly here, but as sure as he knew that his name was Gil Grissom, she was not here as a willing participant.

****************************

Ellen smiled at the young orderly and handed him the armful of dirty linens. She pointed to the laundry bins located near the closet. Scott nodded and proceeded to walk the few steps to the bins.

Ellen turned to a fellow nurse and commented, "Anyway, Dr. Jones came in with the mystery woman being held over in "C" building. There was one of the guards with them and she was in cuffs. Strange thing was that she was in scrubs instead of patient sweats. Then I passed that new doctor as I was leaving the building on my way to see Charlie." Ellen shook her head. "That new guy's a little weird, if you ask me. He's a doctor, and his only patient is that poor fellow in the hospital ward. You'd think that he'd help out Dr. Jones since Dr. Jones is the only doctor here."

The two nurses strolled down to the other end of the hall, continuing their conversation. Scott stared at them wanting to hear more of their conversation. Sometimes being "deaf" was pretty convenient. On the pretense of bringing fresh towels down to the other supply closet located at that end of the hall where the nurses were, Scott tried to look preoccupied in straightening the already neat shelves of supplies.

"…as I was saying, I don't know what's going on. It's unusual that we aren't involved with the daily care of both these two patients. Besides Dr. Jones and this Dr. Mallory, Arthur is the only one who has had contact with either of them. As far as I know, I've been the only one to see the patient in the infirmary, and the mystery woman hasn't any other care than Jones having Arthur bring toiletries and food to her. Arthur seems to be the only one Jones wants near the woman." Glancing behind her at Scott, she added, "..and he ain't talking."

Scott froze momentarily and then continued to "work" on the supplies, as the nurses left the building. He thoughtfully looked at the door, trying to decide what he should do. _Questions. That's what Mother had taught him. Form questions to learn truth. If he really is a doctor, why __**doesn't**__ "Uncle Mallory" help Jones with the other patients? What was Sara doing in scrubs over in the infirmary? She was in cuffs and under guard? What does she have to do with my father? Observation will often answer questions._ He had a lot of observing to do.

*******************************

A/N: Another chapter up. Many, many thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed this story. The reviews keep me going. I hope that the story is not being overwritten and that's its pacing is okay. With the holidays coming up, future postings might be somewhat erratic. A Happy Thanksgiving to all of you out there! May you all count your blessings no matter what your circumstances.


	17. Chapter 17

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 17

Greg Sanders sat impatiently before the computer, nervously tapping his pencil against the edge of the keyboard. As he continued to scroll down the screen, frustration was starting to build. _What is the link between McKeen and the 5__th__ Street Knights? There had to be connection. _

Greg had made the solid link between Baker and the Knights when Baker was serving time in Folsom. Mallory had been pretty cozy with Baker while both of them were serving time. The key was to find how deep Mallory was into the drug trafficking and how much of a tie there was between the under sheriff and the drug trafficking organization that seemed to be entrenched in southern Nevada. Greg sifted through the lists of property owners for both commercial and private properties of not only Clark County but of the surrounding counties as well. McKeen was smart enough to not put his name on any property titles. He was looking to find some kind of pattern of who and/or what was buying properties in the state and try to link any of the individuals or corporations with either the under sheriff or the 5th Street Knights. The young CSI was coordinating with Nick Stokes who was searching through court records where cases against known gang members and drug traffickers were dismissed or the accused was acquitted. They hoped to cross-reference their findings in order to find a link. It was getting to be quite tedious and time-consuming, a luxury that the graveyard CSI's had run out of a long time ago.

Greg sat back and blinked. He had definitely found something. He continued to scroll down the screen and quickly jotted down the pertinent information. Nick strolled in and sat beside his colleague.

"How's it goin'? Come up with anything probative?" queried Nick, placing a file folder from his own research in front of Greg.

"Yeah. Look at this, Nick," said a smiling Greg Sanders. "I think I've found some possibilities here. Tell me what you think."

Sliding into a chair next to Greg, Nick scrutinized the sheet before him. "Wait a sec," said Nick with a mixture of shock and surprise. Opening the file folder he had brought, Nick slipped a sheet of paper next to the information that Greg had written down.

"Greg, look at this. What do you think? Are you seein' what I'm seein'?"

Comparing the information, Greg shook his head, "We've must have done something wrong. Gotten the wrong information somehow. Have we've been totally looking in the wrong direction?"

"Let's double-check both ends of this research and see what we come up with," Nick said softly.

"And, if we come up with the same conclusion?" asked Greg.

"Then we go to Brass and Catherine with our findings," said Nick, "and watch all hell break loose."

*********************************************

The patient didn't eat the rest of the soup. Instead he stared out the single window of the ward. The bars on the window and the two men in prison guard uniform were reminders to him that he was in a lockdown facility. He vaguely remembered a doctor telling him that he had been arrested and tried on a number of charges all related to drug addiction. The problem was that he had no clue what those charges were exactly and what he was convicted of. Hell, he had no memories of ever being addicted to anything except work. At the same time, his body was physically telling him a different story. Grissom was well-schooled in the symptoms exhibited by someone going through withdrawal, and he had all the symptoms. He did remember that he was the supervisor for the graveyard shift of CSI in Las Vegas. He could remember his team and working at the lab. Grissom just had no recollection of being on the wrong side of the law.

_Then there was Sara. What in the hell was she doing here? Maybe I just imagined her. Maybe, just maybe, her being here was just a delusion. Maybe I need her so much now to be my anchor that I imagined the orderly who brought me the soup and helped feed me to be her. She went missing…Sara went missing…_Grissom shut his eyes and tried to concentrate. _I was in a warehouse. I went there to see someone. When was that? Years, weeks, months ago? I can't remember….._

"Well, Grissom, I see that you are thinking deep thoughts," Mallory said as he entered the infirmary.

Grissom's eyes sprang open and looked at the man in the white lab coat enter the room, momentarily startled.

"Mallory," he breathed.

Mallory grinned and sat down next to the bed. "I'm glad to see that you remember my name. However, since you are my patient, I really want you to address me as "Dr. Mallory." That's just to help you remember that I'm here to help on the road to recovery. If you use my name in such a familiar way, I'm afraid that you will lose perspective of what our relationship is supposed to be. Do we have an understanding?"

Grissom simply stared at the man, not wanting to agree to the "doctor's" request.

Mallory's eyes narrowed slightly when the man in the bed failed to agree to his request, but then Mallory pushed, "I will take that as a "yes."

Grissom merely cocked his eyebrow and looked back towards the window. To tell the truth, the patient was afraid to say anything. He didn't want to acknowledge this man as his therapist, so he simply said nothing. Mallory pursed his lips and then surreptitiously injected Grissom's IV line with a strong hypnotic. Slipping the syringe into his pocket, Mallory continued.

"Well, I think we should get back to where we were before, don't you?" asked Mallory in a somewhat serious tone. "Let's go over what you remembered about yourself the last time we talked. Let's see according to my notes, you remembered some of the basic facts of your childhood. Hmmm, let's see here.

Your mother is deaf, and your father died when you were nine…."

"I'm a supervisor at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I have a Phd in entomology," interrupted Grissom, still looking away.

"Why, yes, Grissom, that's right. Do you remember what you did before that?" questioned the "doctor."

"I..I worked in Minnesota for a while. Before that I was a coroner in Los Angeles. I…I'm not sure what else I did before then," Grissom said quietly.

"Well, let's start with Los Angeles. That's where your problems began, I believe," said Mallory in a serious tone." Let's see, the youngest coroner in the history of the LA coroner's office. Quite impressive. Maybe the pressure was too much for you. That can be a very stressful job. Let's see what else? According to your records, you're married and have a son. Do you remember them?"

Grissom furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. "I had a wife and a child. They're dead. They were taken from me. They were killed in an explosion," Grissom said in monotone, a far away look in his eyes.

"Yes, that's right. The case was never solved, was it?"

"N..No…their deaths were ruled an accident, but I…I never believed that it was. Someone, someone was responsible for their deaths. You know who took my family away, don't you?" whispered Grissom.

Grissom turned to Mallory. "You had something to do with this. Rae..Rachel was afraid that I was obsessed with this case. The case had to do with a killer and…and he tortured his victims. Rachel and our son disappeared and then we found them….but it was too late. The car that they had been in had exploded. You know what happened. You know who's responsible."

Lucas Mallory leaned forward. "Do you really think you are ready for what I'm about to tell you and show you, Grissom? Do you think that you can handle the truth so that you can move on?" he asked with a sudden glint in his eyes. "The truth of your crimes, the truth about your life….do you honestly think that you are strong enough now? You weren't strong enough to resist the drugs that led you to where you are today."

Grissom looked at the "doctor" with quiet desperation. _He knows and he's not going to tell me. I have to know who exactly I am. I don't what I am anymore._

"I have to know. Please, help me fill in the holes. I can't go on with all these gaps," Grissom pleaded.

"Grissom, the explosion happened. You remembered it, but Rachel and the baby were not in the car," said Mallory slowly, carefully gauging the patient's reaction.

"I…I don't understand. I heard the baby crying. I saw them in the car. It exploded," said Grissom in a confused voice.

"Yes, there was an explosion, but it was rigged. Rachel and the baby were never in the car. In fact, the bodies in the car were of a mother and son who had already died in a car accident the day before. Rachel and the baby survived," Mallory stopped, letting the information sink in.

In a low voice, Grissom asked, "If they survived, where are they? Who has them? Why the set up?"

"They needed protection from you, Grissom. Your addiction to drugs caused you to do the unthinkable. You had become abusive, and Rachel was afraid for the baby. She also knew that you were deep into the drug trafficking trade. The need to feed your addiction was all consuming. Your family needed to start a new life away from you. At that time, I was trying to help you to fight through this, but you turned on me," said Mallory in measured tones.

Grissom turned to face the man talking to him. "I turned on you? What do you mean? I…I… none of this sounds remotely familiar. You're trying to trick me. If Rachel and the baby aren't dead, what happened to them? Where are they?" asked an incredulous Gil Grissom as he attempted to rise from the bed.

Grissom felt his world crumbling around him, and all that existed for him was this man with information about himself and his family that was seemingly impossible. The familiar sense of panic and lack of control was rising in him again. He gulped and tried to hold on to what little self-control was left. Grissom tried to slow down his breathing, but panic once again was causing him to gasp for breath.

Lucas Mallory put a mask of concern on his face, but inside he was elated with seeing his "patient" fall apart before his eyes. Mallory sorely wanted to feed the tortured man before him more of this carefully crafted tale but knew that too much information would destroy what "progress" they had made so far. He needed for Grissom to accept this sordid tale as fact and then Mallory would build on it.

"Grissom, you need to calm down. Remember that I'm here to help you. I warned you that you needed to be strong and be able to face your past. Denying it isn't going to change anything. Look, I just want you to calm down. I know that this all seems strange to you. I want to give you some medication that will calm you down and help you to think a little more clearly, all right?"

Grissom shook his head, "No, please, not this time. I want to get better, but more drugs isn't going to make this any better. Please…"

Mallory countered quickly and laid a firm hand on the man's arm to focus his attention. "The medication that will be administered counters the addiction. It's sort of like the way methadone is used for weaning addicts off of heroin. Grissom, you're due for another dose and if you resist, I'll have no choice but to use the restraints. You don't want that, do you?"

Grissom shook his head in defeat. _This can't be true. Rachel and Scott were killed in that explosion. I'm not what he says I am. This can't be happening. _He dismally watched Mallory inject his IV line with his "meds." A burning sensation coursed through his arm and proceeded to spread through his body. Startled at the sensation, Grissom quickly glanced at the "doctor."

"Wha..What did you give me? This is different than what Jones had given me before. There wasn't this burning going through me. This isn't helping me…" gasped Grissom with a look of resentment in his eyes. His limbs suddenly felt like lead weights, and his tongue seemed to have thickened to twice its size. He collapsed back against the pillows staring at the man before him.

Mallory grinned widely, "Yes, Grissom, my friend, it's not the same as what my dear cousin gave you. This little combo is going to send you on a wonderful hallucinogenic high, but don't worry. You won't remember this part of our conversation. In a few minutes, we'll be taking the IV out and taking you to a new cell. I don't think you need to be in the infirmary any longer. Hopefully, you will be ready to accept your new situation."

********************************************

Soon after Sara had been taken back to her cell and made to change back into the patient sweats, Scott brought in her evening meal. Being careful to keep his back to the cameras, he placed her tray on the nightstand next to her cot. Sara quickly sat up from her position on the cot.

He quickly signed to her, You saw Grissom?

Sara gave him a slight nod, and Scott gave her a slight nod in return. He pointed to the tray, but signed, How is he?

Sara pushed herself back so that she was braced against the wall and brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Looking at the food and then looking at Scott, she shook her head. _Not good._

Lifting his head slightly, Scott regarded her for a second and then nodded his head to tell her that he understood. He then slowly backed out of the room where Baker was waiting outside to secure the door.

Sara stared at the door briefly. She looked at the food on the tray. Food was the last thing she wanted right now, but she knew that she should eat. Bending over to the tray, she listlessly stirred the spoon in the bowl of stew. She didn't tell anyone that she was a vegetarian, but she doubted that it would have mattered. Sighing, she picked up a slice of bread and nibbled on it. They were careful not to give her a fork or a knife and the food that was brought usually could be eaten with a spoon or her fingers. Tossing the bread down, she got up to restlessly pace the room like a caged tiger.

She reflected upon the brief time she had spent with Grissom. His physical injuries seemed to be healing, but he definitely wasn't himself. He had fixed his eyes on her, and Sara momentarily thought she had seen a spark of recognition, but then a veil of confusion descended upon him. She was not used to seeing Grissom exercising so little control both physically and emotionally.

Sighing, she turned her thoughts to Grissom's son. When she had first met Grissom's mother, she had shown Sara pictures of Grissom when he was growing up. He was a handsome young man and she recognized the strong resemblance between father and son. Sara realized that the similarities between father and son were much more than skin deep. Even though her contact with Scott had been limited, she recognized Grissom's probing nature and curiosity present in his son.

Sara was heartened by the fact that Scott had asked about Grissom. He seemed to absorb what little information she was able to communicate to him about his father, but she couldn't read what that information meant to him. He was an enigma much like Grissom.

*******************************

Grissom felt himself lifted off the bed with his arms draped around the shoulders of the two prison guards as they dragged him from the infirmary. He tried to lift his head but only succeeded in having his head loll to one side. The pull on his injured shoulder and left wrist didn't bother him, at least not much, and although the guards weren't especially gentle, his ribs didn't bother him at all. Their progress down the hall was abruptly halted, and Grissom lifted his head slightly to see an angry Ken Jones standing before the three men.

"What do you think you're doing? This man should be in the infirmary," Jones said, demanding an explanation.

"Mallory said that he wanted Grissom moved to that little used out building near the gardens. We're just following orders. He told us to wait until dark so that the other staff wouldn't see," explained Baker.

"Just hold on a sec," the doctor said, "let me look at this man." Jones lifted Grissom's chin up and examined his eyes. Grissom's eyes were dilated and the man tried to focus on the doctor before him.

"Jones, how very nice to see you," mumbled Grssom as his head lolled to one side. Grissom sighed and sagged against the men holding him up.

"Which cell are you taking him to?" asked Jones, not liking what he was seeing in Grissom's condition.

"I don't know. Mallory just said that he would have one open and prepared. I guess we'll see when we get there. Can we get goin' Doc? He's getting kinda heavy here," was the reply.

Reluctantly, Jones stepped aside and allowed the men to pass by him. He turned and watched them struggle through the doors of the wing into the darkness of the night.

From the shadows of a nearby building, Scott observed the two guards half-carry, half drag the drugged captive across the compound towards building near the gardens. He followed them, always staying in the shadows, being careful not to be noticed.

A/N: Another chapter in. Tell what you think of the story line so far. This journey has been an interesting one for me. Please review so that I can keep going. My muses need the encouragement. Thanks for reading and I hope that you are enjoying this story. In addition, hope that you all had a great Thanksgiving. This is what I'm doing instead of going out on Black Friday (like I had any money, anyway). 


	18. Chapter 18

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 18

Grissom woke with a start. He was lying on a cot in a 10 by 10 square foot windowless room. A single dim light bulb hung from the ceiling. He was shivering uncontrollably though not from being cold. Grissom clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering as he hugged himself in an attempt to keep his body still and to keep the cramping in his abdomen at bay. An incessant buzzing was ringing in his ears, and he couldn't tell whether the sound was coming from inside his head or whether there was some kind of alarm going off. He moved his arms from around himself and covered his ears with his hands hoping to deaden the sound. The sound then changed to wailing, like that of a baby in distress. Memories of Rachel and Scott flooded through his head and he tried to block out the crying of his son. It was of no use.

Grissom sat up still holding his head and brought his knees up, pressing his forehead against them. He rocked back and forth, groaning from his misery. _C'mon Gil. Get yourself together. C'mon. Just hold it together. You can do this. C'mon, damn it. Keep it together. _ Squeezing his eyes shut, Grissom tried to slow his breathing and took long measured breaths and blew them out slowly through his mouth. He was met with limited success. His body continued to shake, but the cramps in his gut had somewhat abated. The crying was fading in and out, but then came other sounds mixed in with the crying, screams of terror or pain, explosions, and a myriad of voices, echoing in and out of his brain. Visions of his past flashed through his mind. Scenes of his brief time with Rachel and the birth of his son, the explosion of the car, Catherine, Brass, Warrick, Nick, Al Robbins, Greg Sanders, and Sara and the rest of the staff at CSI all flitted through his mind, their voices echoing in muted tones.

The door of the cell softly creaked open. Scott glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one else in the hallway. He slipped through the door and quietly closed it behind him. He crouched down and watched the man on the cot slowly rock back and forth, his eyes were tightly closed, and he was practically rolled up in a ball. Soft moans were emanating from Grissom. Scott watched Grissom, silently taking in the man's misery. Beads of sweat had started forming on suffering man's forehead, and his mutterings were becoming louder and louder. He was raking his hands through his salt and pepper curls, trying to hold his head together. Grissom was losing his battle to keep himself under control.

Scott crept forward in an attempt to hear what Grissom was muttering, hoping to read his lips. The man was clearly in misery. Scott reached out and tentatively touched Grissom's hand.

Grissom's head immediately shot up, and he wildly stared at the young man crouched before him. The young face before him slowly came into focus. Grissom clenched his teeth and looked down at the young man's hand that was now holding his. Scott was clasping his hand tightly, and Grissom stared at it as if it were a snake swallowing his hand.

Scott bent his head to peer into his father's face, and, in return, Grissom shifted his head slightly and looked up. The images flashing in front of him gradually receded, and Grissom stared into the intense dark blue eyes that mirrored his own. The face was familiar, reminding of him of himself but at the same time had the fine features of someone he could not quite place. Scott tried to ease his hand out of Grissom's, but Grissom held on to his hand tightly, continuing to stare at him. _What did Mallory say? That Rachel and Scott were not killed in the explosion? That they had survived? If they survived, then is this? Is this? Could this be? _Instinctively, Grissom knew that this young man was his son.

"Scott. You're Scott…" whispered Grissom weakly as guilt and shame washed over him.

Slowly Scott nodded, never taking his eyes off of Grissom's face. Scott gently but firmly pried his hand from Grissom's grip. Grissom's son had just wanted to see what was happening to the man who was his father. He hadn't come with a plan, and he wasn't sure what to do next. Scott only knew that he couldn't stay too long or he would be discovered, and that would be disastrous for both of them. Scott stood up and took a step backward.

"Wait…please, don't go…don't…," Grissom gasped softly as a spasm shook him.

"Scott…I did…didn't mean…to…Scott. I didn't mean to abandon your mother or you. I didn't know…," Grissom struggled to control the shaking as tears glistened in his eyes. He tried to lift himself off the cot to reach out to Scott, but only succeeded in falling off the cot onto his knees. Grissom fell backward onto the floor with his back against the cot. He felt too weak to move from his place on the floor, try as he might.

Grissom clenched his hands tightly around his knees and stared desperately at Scott who was edging closer to the door. Scott slowly lifted his hands in front of him. When his mother was still alive and his hearing was mostly gone, Rachel had taught him to sign and letting him know that she had learned it from Grissom. He stared intently at his father, willing his father to understand.

I have to go. I promise I will be back. No one knows that I am here. Our secret for now. Don't tell anyone I was here, understand? I promise to come back as soon as I can, okay?

Though Grissom's mind was hazy, the fact that his son was signing to him was not lost on him, but he didn't want to young man to leave. He miserably nodded his head, realizing that he didn't have much of a choice. Grissom bent his head, rested his forehead on his knees, and heard the lock click into place, leaving him alone once more.

Scott gently closed the door and stared at it for a moment, thinking. He wasn't sure what to make of the man suffering on the other side of the door. Scott had witnessed plenty drug abuse victims go through withdrawal, and while Grissom was suffering similar physical withdrawal symptoms as the other patients, there was something that was different with the way he was reacting. Then it struck him. Other patients, when they were going through the throes of the cramping, hallucinations, and shaking had often begged for more drugs, that the withdrawal was too painful. Grissom was suffering through it, but he was _fighting _through it. That, in itself, was somewhat unusual. He didn't ask to be relieved of the suffering. There was more going on with Grissom than Jones had let on. Determined to find out more, he left the building being careful to make sure that no one would observe him.

Scott quietly crossed the compound, always keeping to the shadows. It would not be good for Mallory or Jones to find him wandering around the building where Grissom had just been transferred. As he stealthily made his way to the corner of the next building, Scott observed Mallory in his white lab coat and the two prison guards headed towards the building where Sara was being housed. Curious, Scott waited until they were in the building before he followed them.

Looking over his shoulder, Scott approached the building. He paused and slowly opened the door only a crack. Peeking in, he watched as Mallory and the guards entered Sara's cell, leaving the door slightly ajar. Sliding quickly through the entrance and carefully closing the door behind him, he edged his way forward, enough where he could hear Mallory's voice.

**************************************

Sara heard the latch of the door click open, and she was standing up in a second, her back to the wall. Scott had been here a little while ago so unless he was here to pick up her tray, she was sure that she had another visitor. Lucas Mallory sauntered through the doorway with a smug smile on his face. Lopez and Baker followed in behind him.

Glancing down at the untouched food, Mallory sneered," Not much of an appetite, I see. Too worried about Grissom?"

Sara didn't offer a response but glared at the man with hatred in her eyes.

"Nevertheless, Sara, I have been thinking about what you can do to help me with my game with Grissom. You like games, don't you? I've thought about this and you will play prominently in my plans."

"Whatever you're planning, I'm not going to cooperate. I won't help you," said a defiant Sara Sidle.

"Oh, Sara… You're not going to have much of a choice. Grissom is right where I want him, both emotionally and physically. By the time I'm finished with him, he will be so filled with guilt and shame, that you won't recognize the man," Mallory said with a wide grin on his face.

Mallory continued, "I can see why Grissom chose you. You're quite spunky. Rachel had that kind of spunk, but her weakness was her son. She was quite cooperative when she realized that the life of her son was at stake. Imagine how Grissom would feel if you don't play my little game and it endangers his son."

"Speaking of his son, the young man is a regular chip off the old block, except that he's deaf. I guess that's something else he inherited from his old man. I understand that Grissom had otosclerosis, a condition he inherited from his mother. Too bad the young man couldn't have corrective surgery before he lost his hearing. That's something else Grissom can take the blame for," smirked a jovial Lucas Mallory.

"What do you mean "Rachel was" and "had"? Where is she? What have you done with her?" hissed Sara.

"Are you worried about the competition, Sara? You needn't worry. Rachel died some time ago. She contracted some kind of virus. Kenny could do nothing to save her. I understand that's when the boy quit speaking. His hearing was gone sometime before that but he could still speak. He just stopped when she died. Yet another thing Grissom can feel guilty about. Had he kept out of my business, his wife would probably still be alive, and his son wouldn't be a mute."

Mallory continued, "I think that it's time to get started, Sara."

Mallory nodded to Baker and Lopez, and they stepped forward and grabbed Sara's arms. She struggled against them as they tossed her on to the cot. Sara bucked and kicked, trying to bite and head butt the men as they pinned her down.

"No…no… let me go," she panted, continuing to struggle against the two men.

"Hold her still, guys. Sara, you'll find a burning sensation, but then it'll be all good," said Mallory with a smile.

He held up the needle he had withdrawn from his pocket, and squirted a drop or two of the concoction to be sure there were no air pockets. As the men held her down, Sara stared as the needle was plunged into her arm. True to his word, she felt burning course through her arm and then through her body. Sara gave one more burst of protest, but the men were too strong. As the hallucinogenic cocktail coursed through her veins, the young woman felt herself go limp, and her vision started to blur. Lopez and Baker eased off of her and backed away.

Sara gazed at her attackers and watched their faces blur and then elongate into shapeless masses. She heard them speak but could not make out the words. The drugged woman lay limply on the cot, her eyes glazed over as her head rocked from side to side.

Mallory slipped the empty syringe back into his lab coat pocket and turned to his two assistants. "She's tripping now. Her next dose should be in about four more hours. Grissom is due in about an hour. You guys get something to eat and meet me back at Grissom's cell. I doubt that I will need you, but you never know," said Mallory quietly.

Though the door was left slightly open, Scott could not clearly hear everything being said but was able to get the gist of the conversation. He heard the brief struggle as Sara was being subdued and then it was quiet. Realizing that the three men were finished with Sara for the time being, Scott slipped noiselessly past the cell door and stole into the supply closet just as Mallory and the guards emerged from Sara's cell. They walked the opposite direction from the closet and left the building. Scott waited a few minutes to make sure they were gone and walked quickly to Sara's door.

With his pass key, he opened the door and entered her cell. Scott called her name softly, but the woman lying on the cot was oblivious to her surroundings. He crept up to her and turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were glazed over and unfocused. Sara was breathing rapidly and a slight trembling had begun in her limbs. Shaking his head, Scott realized there was nothing he could do for her right at that moment, but perhaps there might be something he could do before she received her next dose. Standing up, the young man made his way to the door and let himself out.

***************************************************

Dr. Ken Jones entered his cousin's lab that had been set up for him since his arrival. Mallory was filling syringes of his latest concoction and then carefully labeling them. Jones paused for a moment and watched his cousin as he busily continued his work.

"Lucas, I want to talk to you. I thought we agreed to keep Grissom in the infirmary for a few more days until he was a little stronger."

Lucas turned around and smiled widely at Jones. "I decided to pick up the pace a bit. Things are happening in Vegas. It means that Grissom has to be ready a little sooner than I had anticipated. Don't worry, Kenny. It's all good. Trust me."

"What do you mean? This was just supposed to be getting a little revenge on Grissom for your little stint in Folsom. You were going take care of him and then disappear, go away from here. What's going on in Vegas that I need to know about?"

"You know, Kenny, I think that being stuck out here in the desert for so long has narrowed your vision and thinking. My plans have changed a bit is all. My "friends" want a little more control over the law enforcement in this state, and for starters, they've decided that their hold of the Las Vegas Police Department needs to be a little stronger. That's where Grissom comes in."

"Lucas, I've managed to build a legitimate business here. I haven't any dealings with your "friends" for a long time, and I've paid them back a thousandfold for my start here. I've turned it around, and the only reason why you're even here is because you're family." Taking a deep breath, Jones continued, "I've put all that behind me. I have a respectable reputation now, and I want to keep it that way."

Mallory gave Jones a long, hard look. "Kenny, how naïve can you be? You can never pay them back and think that everything is even. From the first time you allowed them to pay your way through med school and then set up your practice, you have been in their back pocket. Do you honestly think that they have forgotten about you? Don't you understand that they own you…and me, for that matter?"

****************************************************

Catherine entered Grissom's office where Greg and Nick were both waiting for her.

"Okay, guys. Where's the fire?" asked Catherine in an impatient tone. "I'm assuming that you found a link between McKeen and the 5th Street Knights, right?"

Nick glanced at Greg and cleared his throat. "Catherine, not exactly. I think that we should wait for Jim. Greg and I found a link all right, but you're not going to believe what we found."

Jim Brass lightly tapped on the doorframe to announce his arrival. "I saw Warrick in the break room and suggested that he make his way down here."

"I'm here," said Warrick, curious to why they were meeting in Grissom's office. Greg reached over and closed the door, making sure the blinds were shut.

Catherine sat behind Grissom's desk.

"I take it that what you found is not what we were expecting," Catherine said, wanting to get to the point.

"I think we should all sit down first, and then Nick and I will show you the results of our search," said Greg, trying to delay the inevitable.

"C'mon guys. Out with it," said an impatient Jim Brass.

"While Greg was searching for patterns in the purchases of properties from the same company that owned the warehouse where Sara was taken and from the safe house, I decided to check with the gang unit and the narco squad about any recent activities. I contacted Detective Cavaliere about any recent arrests his unit might have made. Anyway, the PD has in custody one Zachary Bessler for possession and trafficking. He is a member of the Knights and this is his third arrest. In his possession, he had a notebook with a list of addresses in which he was to pick up drop offs on what dates. One of the entries included the warehouse and the date/time was the same as when Grissom and Sara were at the warehouse," said a grim Nick Stokes.

"So Mallory told Grissom to meet him at this warehouse and didn't know that a drop was being made?" asked Catherine. "That sounds like incredibly poor planning."

"Well, not exactly. In the course of the interrogation, Bessler said the whole fiasco at the warehouse was a drug deal gone bad. Seems that a whole lot more money was demanded for what was being distributed."

"Mallory tried to double-cross his own people? He wanted to cut his own throat or what? Why have Grissom meet him there if he knew a drop was being made?" questioned Brass, knowing that a drug deal going bad was not exactly unusual, but going against your own organization was a death sentence.

"That's just it. Mallory knew that a drop was to be made. Bessler claims that Grissom was supposed to be there," said Nick.

"So Grissom was part of the deal? Mallory was going hand Grissom over to the Knights? Why would the Knights want Grissom? I know why Mallory wanted him- for revenge, but the Knights? Was that his revenge? What would they have to gain except to have all of the Las Vegas PD down their throats more than they already are," commented Catherine.

"No, you're not understanding. Grissom was the one who was there making the drop," said a solemn Greg Sanders.

*************************************************

A/N: Another chapter up. I'm hoping this storyline is working for all of you. I struggled a bit with this chapter as I felt some of the transitions between scenes were a little too abrupt or not detailed enough. It is what it is I guess. Please let me know what you all think….bgreer


	19. Chapter 19

**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 19**

Jim Brass and Catherine Willows stared at Greg Sanders in bewilderment.

"What do you mean that Grissom was the one who was to make the drop?" exclaimed an incredulous Catherine Willows.

Greg shot Nick a look for help. "Well, Catherine, I was in the interrogation room with Cavaliere when Bessler named Grissom as his contact. I thought that maybe Mallory had paid him to name Grissom, but Greg researched the company that owns the title of the warehouse and of the house where Sara was first taken. It apparently is a "front" company for the Knights. Going down the list of properties that were listed in the notebook in Bessler's possession, these properties were either purchased by the LH Holding Company or MG Enterprises. MG Enterprises apparently is fairly new to the scene. This company started purchasing properties about 5 months ago, about a month after Lucas Mallory escaped from Folsom."

"What does this have to do with Grissom?" questioned Catherine.

"I was able to pull up the business license and papers filed with the state business license office. The company is under partnership between one Lucas Mallory and one Gilbert A. Grissom, Mallory-Grissom Enterprises," said Greg reluctantly.

"Have you sent the documentation over to QD for analysis?" Brass queried.

"Yeah, we should have the results soon. I want to interview Bessler again and see what else he can cough up in the way of information. Cavaliere's unit is rounding up known members of the Knights and checking out the word on the streets. There has to be an explanation on why Bessler thinks that Grissom was supposed to be there. Mallory could have just put Grissom's name on the documents. I'm sure that we will find that his signature was forged," said a hopeful Nick Stokes.

*********************************

Grissom lay on his side on the cool concrete floor. Shakily, he tried to pull himself up onto the cot. His damaged left wrist collapsed under his weight as he tried to push himself off the floor. His head and torso hit the floor with a dull thud, and Grissom gave out a "hmmph." He rested a minute or two with his forehead on the cool floor and then rolled onto his left side holding his wrist close to his body. With his right hand, he pulled himself up onto the cot and leaned his back against the cement wall. Grissom tried to recall the last images that passed through his mind. _A young man…Scott…was it Scott or was it hallucination? _Shutting his eyes, the weary man tried to remember how he got to this cell. _I was talking to Mallory…Dr. Mallory?...is that right? Something…something about Rachel and the baby surviving the explosion. Rachel taking the baby because…because she was afra…afraid of me? _

Grissom shook his head to try to loosen the cobwebs. Looking down, he was startled to find that he was no longer in patient sweats but in a demin shirt and jeans, a prisoner's uniform. His feet were bare. The soft wrap-around cast that had been on his left wrist had been removed, and Grissom noted that it was slightly swollen and tender. Shifting positions, he sat up a little straighter and felt stiffness in his ribs and a twinge in his left shoulder_. Had he been in a fight? Wasn't I in a rehab facility? Last I remember was being in the infirmary at an addiction clinic…._

Grissom looked up as the door to his cell swung open.Lucas Mallory entered the room followed by the ever present guards. Mallory studied the man on the cot for a moment. His eyes were clearer than when he had Lopez and Baker change Grissom's clothing. The tremors that had wracked Grissom were only slightly present. Taking a seat on the folding chair that Baker set up for him, Mallory sat down across from his prisoner. Both Baker and Lopez stepped back and stood silently against the door with folded arms. Mallory opened the folder and glanced at the contents.

"Well, Grissom, how are you adjusting to your new digs? You'll only be in this cell until you can be transferred to the state prison in Carson City. I'm still holding out for the chance that once we can get you psychologically well that we can get you sent to a minimum security facility," said Mallory.

"When did all this happen? I…I don't remember being moved from the infirmary. Am I still at the rehab clinic?" asked Grissom softly, confusion clearly on his face. Grissom straightened up a little while still leaning against the wall.

"Yes, we are still at the clinic. The infirmary needed your bed and since you didn't need the IV, Jones thought it best that you be moved to an isolation cell. Right now though, I would like to give you another injection before your symptoms start up again. I see the tremors have abated quite a bit. How are the cramps and headaches? We want to keep them under control, don't we?" asked Mallory with a gleam in his eyes.

Grissom warily eyed the syringe that Mallory withdrew from his lab coat pocket. Memories of the cramping and hallucinations were enough to keep Grissom from protesting. Reluctantly he held out his right arm so that Mallory could give him his "meds."

"Okay Grissom, just make a fist. There that's it. You'll feel a slight burning. I just want you to relax, okay, and let the drugs run its course."

Mallory finished administering the injection and then sat back to observe his "patient." Grissom noticeably relaxed, and his eyes took on a slightly glazed look. Mallory waited a few minutes more, observing Grissom under the influence of the powerful hypnotic he had just given him.

"Grissom, are you with me? Look at me so that I know that you can hear me," Mallory said softly.

The drugged man slowly lifted his head and looked at the man seated before him with slightly unfocused eyes. "Ye..yes…I'm listening,' Grissom said slowly.

"Grissom, I want to show you some pictures to see if I can jog your memory, okay?" Mallory said, annunciating his words carefully. With deliberate slowness, Mallory opened the file folder he had brought with him and took out several photographs and placed them in Grissom's hands.

Grissom gazed down at the photos lying in his hands and started to shake. With trembling hands, he picked them up, one by one, and stared at each one. The shaking increased as he continued to stare at the images before him.

"Where did you get these?" he whispered in a stricken voice.

Mallory leaned forward, intensity in his eyes. It was critical that Grissom believe this phase of the story. Speaking in a soft voice, barely above a whisper, Mallory said, "Do you really want to know? Do you think you can face Rachel's fate or your son's?"

Grissom looked up to see Mallory staring intently at him and then glanced down once more at the pictures before him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded slowly and replied, "I have to know."

"These photos were taken after the explosion. As you can see, Rachel and the boy were not injured. Grissom, she was deathly afraid of you and what you would do to her and the boy so she came to me."

Pausing a moment to let this information sink in, Mallory continued, "Dr. Jones is my cousin, and he agreed to hide her from you. She stayed here with him and made a new life for herself and the baby."

Grissom sorted through the photographs once more. The photographs were taken over the last twenty years. Some were of mother and son while still others were just of Scott at various ages or just of Rachel.

"Made a new life for herself? With Dr. Jones? I…I want to see her, talk to her. Try to make things right," said Grissom as he looked away from Mallory and stared at the floor. "I need to let her know that…that I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Keeping a serious expression on his face, Mallory said quietly, "That would be impossible. It's too late, Grissom." Pausing for a dramatic effect, Mallory leaned forward and made eye-contact with Grissom who was becoming more and more distraught. "Gil, she died about twelve years ago. She caught a virus and died in the infirmary."

Grissom shot a distressed look at Mallory, the pictures on his lap forgotten. "You tell me that my wife didn't die twenty years ago. That it was my fault that she left and took my son. Now, I don't have the opportunity to try to apologize to her, to try to make up for all the wrong things I have done?" he said in a low voice.

Mallory leaned back in his chair. He had expected for Grissom to be remorseful and guilt-ridden, but he didn't expect the anger and denial that was clearly rising in the man. Mallory stood up.

"Grissom, I think that we have covered enough for today. You have a lot to absorb. You just chew on this information and we talk some more in a while when I think that you're ready," said Mallory in a serious tone.

"No. I might as well know it all. Where is my son? He should be about twenty now. Is he still here? What's he like? I'd like to meet him," said Grissom as he started to rise off the cot with adrenalin coursing through him.

Mallory signaled for the guards to come forward. "Grissom, you need to calm down. Your agitation will only get you into trouble," warned the "doctor."

Grissom warily eyed the guards as the athletically built guards approached him. From the corner of his eye, he caught the slight glimmer of the syringe that Mallory was quietly pulling from his lab coat. Without a thought of the consequences, Grissom lunged forward, pushing Mallory from his chair onto the floor. Grabbing the folding chair, the desperate man swung the chair, catching Baker and Lopez by surprise. As soon as the chair hit both men, Grissom was painfully reminded of his injured wrist. He staggered forward and was able to pull Lopez's weapon from its holster. Holding his left wrist against his body, he stood dizzily up and pointed the weapon at the three stunned men lying haphazardly on the floor.

Panting for breath, Grissom staggered backward towards the door, the shaking gun temporarily holding the men at bay. "No more injections. I'd rather suffer the withdrawal symptoms. I don't know what game you're playing at, but I'm not playing anymore," Grissom managed to gasp.

Realizing that he had pushed the man too far, Mallory tried to salvage the situation. "Grissom, listen to me. This won't get you anywhere. You're only making it harder for yourself. Look, I'll arrange a meeting with your son, but you have to put the gun down."

Uncertainty crossed Grissom's face as he edged his way to the door in order to escape this nightmare. "I…I don't believe you. You'll say anything to get me to put the gun down. Right now, you're going to slide your keys toward me."

Mallory hesitated. He knew that Grissom would not get far. He was still weak and barefoot. The adrenalin that was giving the man his current strength would soon wear off. Slowly, Lucas Mallory withdrew the keys from his pocket and slid them across the floor to Grissom.

Grimacing, Grissom gingerly lowered himself so that he could reach the keys, never taking his eyes off his captors. Grasping the keys, he fumbled momentarily, trying to find the proper key. The injured man took one last look at the men lying on the cell floor and quickly shut the door, locking them in.

Leaning against the wall as he felt his strength draining away, Grissom heard the men scrambling around inside the cell. Mallory was screaming at this men, and the cell door shook as the guards threw their weight against it. Staggering down the dimly lit hallway, Grissom pulled open the door to the building and made his way outside.

At this point, he had no plan but to simply get away from Mallory and the two guards. Stumbling through the darkness, his way was lit by only a thin sliver of moon that shone through the cloudless Nevada night sky. Grissom found himself lurching through a garden. Though his feet were bare, he hardly felt the sticks and rocks that tore into his soles. His head was beginning to ache and the cramping in his abdomen was starting up again. Tripping, the man landed on his knees. Tucking the 9mm Beretta into the back of his pants, he then rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Bringing up his left arm and wrist, he held it close to his body using his right hand as a support.

Grissom landed in front of a smooth marble gravestone. He scanned his surroundings, realizing that he was in a small graveyard. Most of the graves were plain, but the one he landed in front of seemed somewhat ornate compared to the rest. Fresh flowers had recently been placed carefully in front of the headstone. _Rachel Grissom Jones May you find the peace you couldn't find in this life. _He stared in disbelief at the headstone. Mallory had told him the truth. Rachel had survived the explosion and had died. She died believing that he was a monster.

The sound of a muffled gunshot reached his ears. _Damn! I forgot to get the other guard's gun. They'll be here soon to drag me away. _The guard most probably shot off the lock of the door. Grissom sat on his knees, wanting to get up and get away, but the headstone before him seemed to hold him like a magnet. He heard a door slam open and muffled voices in the direction of the building from which he had just escaped. Grissom tried to rise off of his knees but his limbs felt like lead weights. Reaching for the headstone for leverage, he started to pull himself up.

He suddenly felt a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, two hands came down on his shoulders, pushing him flat on his stomach. Grissom attempted to get up, but whoever had pushed him down was now lying on top of him. A hand came across his mouth, preventing him from uttering a sound.

"Shhhh….shhh," came the whispered voice.

*********************************************************

Scott had surreptitiously crept into Mallory's makeshift lab after Jones and Mallory had left and had discovered a plethora of drugs. Drugs were in various stages of process.

Exploring the lab, Scott found file folders on both Grissom and Sara lying on Mallory's desk. Each folder contained a schedule of when each of the "patients" would receive a dose, the amount, and the combination of what drug. Scott examined Sara's schedule and noted that her "treatment" had just begun and that Mallory had taken notes about how Sara was faring with her combination of PCP and heroin. Her next dose was due in a couple of hours and she was to be injected with a combination of barbiturates and amphetamines. Studying the combination of drugs and the schedule of dosages, Scott realized that the "treatment" would render Sara addicted and dependent on Mallory.

Scott picked up Grissom's folder and proceeded to examine the notes on Grissom. Scott noted the dosages and the pattern of increase and concentration of the substances. It seemed as though Mallory had sadistically increased the dosages, observing his patient hallucinate and then suffer the symptoms of withdrawal by purposely withdrawing or substituting placebos. Reading the detailed notes on his father, it was clear to the young man that this "patient" did not fit the usual profile of a drug addict. Mallory wasn't trying to wean Grissom away from addiction but quite the opposite. Scott sat on a stool, staring at the information that lay before him. Grissom had been on a regular regimen of "drug therapy" for more than three weeks. His body was now clearly addicted to the substances that Mallory was administering to him.

Scott noted that Grissom's next dosages were due, and that was probably where Mallory and his men were headed. The young man glanced up and noticed through the glass windows of the cabinet next to the desk, a number of syringes laying neatly in two rows. On closer examination, Scott noted that the syringes in the top row were carefully labeled with what each contained and when they were to be administered to Grissom. The second row of syringes was similar, only these were for Sara.

Opening the cabinet door, Scott thoughtfully ran his fingers over the syringes, trying to decide what to do. Grissom's dependence on the cocktail of drugs Mallory was giving him was becoming quite severe if Scott were to believe the notes that Mallory was making. Sara, on the other hand, was just in the beginning stages of Mallory's "treatments." She would not have developed the dependence on the drugs as much as Grissom.

Making a decision, Scott searched the rest of the lab for a bottle of saline solution. Carefully, he emptied the syringes earmarked for Sara and refilled each one with saline. Meticulously he placed each syringe as he found them.

He thought momentarily what he should do with Grissom's "meds." He couldn't do the same as he had with Sara's. Grissom's life could very well be in danger because of the withdrawal symptoms. His damaged body would severely crave the concoctions that Mallory had devised. Having helped Ken Jones numerous times with patients going through withdrawal, Scott felt the only way to help his father was to try to wean him from the addiction by trying another regimen of drugs less lethal and addictive, but he wasn't sure what other drugs could be substituted and at what dosage could be used to help his father come clean. Another option might be to trying watering down the drugs rather than stopping them cold turkey. Jones would know exactly what to do, but he was in league with Mallory and had allowed the whole sordid situation to happen.

Scott decided to replace the syringes with their poison with those filled with saline. He then pocketed the "meds" made for Grissom. Scott decided he needed to visit with Sara a little bit before the next scheduled dose and let her know what he had done. She would have to be a fine enough actress to convince Mallory that he had actually given her the concoction that was originally in the shot.

Checking and rechecking the syringes and the lab overall, Scott made sure that everything looked the same as he when he first came in. He then left, intent on visiting his mother's grave.

Scott sat in front of his mother's grave. He silently told her that he had found his father, and that he was sure that he still loved her. He waited for some inspiration of what he should do next in relation to Grissom. After carefully arranging a bouquet of her favorite flowers, Scott stood up and dusted off the knees of his jeans. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement from the building nearest the cemetery. A figure was lurching and staggering towards the cemetery. Scott backed away and crouched beside a creosote bush to observe the stumbling figure.

Suddenly the fleeing man fell in front of his mother's grave, and from the dim moonlight, Scott recognized Grissom. He observed the man as he scanned the area around him desperately and then stare at the engraved headstone. Grissom bowed his head, and started to shake. Suddenly his head shot up as if he heard a loud bang. Grissom sat still, staring in the direction of the building from which he had escaped. Scott took this moment to circle around behind him, all the while keeping an eye in the direction where Grissom was staring. Mallory and his two guards emerged from the building. Mallory was obviously angry and pushed his men in different directions to search for their escapee.

Scott realized that as long as Grissom stayed on his knees, the headstone would block any view of him. As the injured man tried to stand, Scott came up from behind him and pushed him down. Landing across his father's back, Grissom's son clamped one hand over his father's mouth to prevent him from shouting out.

"Shh….shh," Scott whispered.

Somewhat confused, Grissom lay still and listened as the sounds of his pursuers faded in the opposite direction, toward the other buildings away from the gardens. Carefully, the person on Grissom's back shifted off his back and helped Grissom roll over. Grissom stared up at the young face before him. _I didn't hallucinate. He's for real. _

"You're for real. You're Scott,"whispered Grissom with awe in his voice and eyes. "You're here with me."

Scott nodded. I'm here with you. But first, let's get you somewhere safe, he signed quickly.

Glancing down at Grissom feet, he noticed the man's feet were somewhat bloody from running through the desert. Grissom followed Scott's glance down and saw blood seeping through the scratches and abrasions on his feet. In his panic to get away, Grissom did not realize the damage he was doing to his feet.

"It's okay. I can walk, I think. Help me up," Grissom said in a low voice.

Shaking his head, Scott motioned that Grissom should stay seated on the ground. Taking his own shoes off, the young man took slipped off his socks and put them on Grissom's feet. Scott slipped his shoes back on his bare feet. The material from the crew socks would at least give his feet a little protection.

Scott helped his father up and wrapped his left arm around his father's shoulder. Scott guided Grissom through the semi-darkness, carefully trying to prevent further damage to the man's feet. When they reached the end of the gardens farthest from the clinic, father and son approached the edge of a precipice that had a sharp drop of about thirty feet. Scott eased Grissom down onto a large boulder to rest. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that they still had not been spotted, Scott turned to Grissom and indicated to him that he should rest for a moment. The older man was wheezing and obviously winded.

Quickly, the young man searched for the path that was hidden by the creosote brushes that would allow him to taken Grissom safely down the precipice. From the bottom of the steep slope, Scott would be able to guide his father to safe hiding place. Finding the trail he was looking for, Grissom's son quietly made his way back to his father and half carried, half dragged him down the trail. Scott tried to go down the path as rapidly as he could without the both of them falling and tumbling down the rest of the slope.

Reaching the bottom of the slope, Scott looked up to see Mallory's men using flashlights while searching the gardens. Pushing Grissom down against the slope, the young man peered up in time to see the men shine their lights in their direction.

Grissom was becoming increasingly dizzy. His son had practically carried him down the precipice, and he could do little to help him. The tremors were returning with a vengeance and seemed to be keeping time with the pounding in his head. Breathing in ragged gulps, Grissom tried to calm himself as he watched Scott make sure that all was clear for them to continue away from Mallory's henchmen.

When he deemed that the way was clear, Scott helped Grissom up and continued along the base of the cliff. As long as they stayed close to the base, they would be able to stay hidden from the searching eyes above them. Scott was fueled by the need to protect this man and it was all he needed to keep going even though his back and arms had begun to ache. They made frequent stops so that Grissom could catch his breath and so Scott could check the condition Grissom's feet. The socks were getting pretty torn up, and his feet would be a bloody mess by the time they got to the shelter that Scott had in mind.

When they reached a narrow gully, the two men left the trail and Scott helped Grissom through the rocky wash. With every step, pain shot up through both his legs, and Grissom clenched his teeth tightly together to prevent himself from groaning out loud. Finally, near the end of the gully, halfway up one side, Scott lowered Grissom on a rock ledge was jutting out. He climbed ten feet and moved aside some brush that hid the entrance to an abandoned mine. Climbing back down, Scott indicated to Grissom that he needed to be able to climb the ten feet to the entrance.

For Grissom, those ten feet seemed like ten miles. Swallowing hard, he nodded and allowed Scott to pull him up against him. Scott dragged his father up the hill, both men panting from exertion. Upon reaching the entrance, they both collapsed in a heap.

A/N: This chapter ended up being a lot longer than intended. Reviews will cause me to post the next chapter sooner than later as it is partly written. Please let me know if you are enjoying it……Beck


	20. Chapter 20

_**Journey Through the Past-**_ Chapter 20

Dr. Ken Jones looked up from his paperwork in surprise as his cousin charged into his office. Jones put down his pen and slipped off his glasses.

"Lucas, what brings you to my office this time of night? Grissom's treatment not going as planned?" Jones asked Mallory quietly.

"Kenny, Grissom has escaped. I've got Lopez and Baker looking for him, but you've got to help me find him!"

"You've got to be kidding. Your two men couldn't keep him under control? The man is injured, weak, and almost twice the age of your guys. He's probably delusional and disoriented. How did you let him escape?" Jones asked.

Mallory raked his hands through his hair as he paced around his cousin's office. "I don't know. Things were going so well. I gave him his hypnotic and I guess I pushed him too far. He totally surprised us. "

"Well, this is just great, Lucas. How soon before he is supposed to get his next dose of your PCP concoction?" sighed Jones.

"He was due right then. He started getting a little agitated. I think mainly from the information I was feeding him. I guess he saw the needle, and he went totally ballistic."

"So he didn't get that second injection?"

"Uhh..no, he didn't."

Jones sat back in his chair and looked up at his obsessed cousin. "Well, there is one thing in your favor, Lucas. He'll going to need medical attention because the withdrawal will get severe. He couldn't have gone far. He's probably writhing around in the desert somewhere having seizures. We're miles from the nearest town, and he'd never make it to the main road in his condition. Just relax."

Jones checked his watch. "It'll be light in about eight hours. It doesn't make sense for your guys to be stumbling around in the dark. Have them get some rest, and I'll get one or two of the orderlies to keep a patrol out on the grounds. As soon as day breaks, have your guys look for him. He couldn't have gone far. There's nowhere out there really for him to hide."

"Ummm…there is one thing you should know, Kenny," Mallory said hoarsely. "Grissom was able to take Lopez's weapon. Uhh…that's how he was able to escape."

"You mean he's armed?"

Chewing nervously on his lip, Mallory nodded yes. Jones rolled his eyes at his cousin.

"Well, this is just great, Lucas. Your men are so incompetent that they let him escape. What did they do? Hand him a weapon just to prove their incompetence?" seethed Jones. Shaking his head, this little bit of information put a slightly different spin on the situation. Instead of finding a helpless sick man out in the desert, now they had to contend with someone who could be hallucinating and possibly trying to shoot his enemies, real or imagined.

"Then I'm not risking any of my staff trying to find Grissom. Instead of Lopez and Baker cooling their jets in bed, they'd better be searching the perimeter and the desert surrounding the clinic instead of waiting until daylight. In fact, I'm going to lockdown the clinic. There'll be no movement outside the buildings and every building will be secured. Hopefully, your men will find him before his escape disrupts the routine of this clinic."

Jones stood up and pulled on a jacket. "Let's get going. The sooner we find him, the better."

******************************************

Grissom woke up with a start. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus them on the young man kneeling near his feet. Scott had removed the bloody socks and was now gently washing Grissom's torn up feet. Though the water felt soothing on his lacerated soles, his feet felt as though they were on fire. Grissom jerked his foot when the young man pulled a ½ inch thorn from his heel. Startled at the reaction, Scott looked up to see Grissom staring at him.

Scott regarded his father for a moment, cocked his head at his father, and then nodded at Grissom's feet, indicating that he needed to finish the task at hand. Sighing, Grissom nodded and tried to relax.

While Scott continued to dress and bandage his feet, Grissom took stock of his surroundings. It appeared that this mine was a place that Scott regularly visited. Grissom was lying on an inflated air mattress that was pushed up against one side of the mine wall. He was propped up by a folded blanket that had been placed behind his upper back and shoulders. The mine was dimly lit by a single battery-powered lamp which was set near Grissom's legs so that Scott could see what he was doing. On one side of the mattress was a cardboard box filled with dry goods. Two coolers had been set on the right side of the air mattress. Lined up neatly on a towel covering one of the coolers were a dozen or so filled syringes.

Grissom did a double-take. Glancing quickly at Scott and then down at his arms, Grissom realized that he had just recently been given an injection. The tell-tale sign of a recently given shot was evident on the inside part of his left arm. Anger and resentment suddenly filled him, and Grissom pulled his feet away from Scott.

Startled the young man looked up in surprise. Scott followed Grissom gaze from the syringes to the needle mark in his left arm, then back to the syringes.

"Did you inject me with whatever was in those syringes?" Grissom asked angrily, looking at Scott.

Scott eyed the man before him coolly. He nodded his head slowly and then gestured with his hands that he had only given Grissom a partial dose. Crawling over to the cooler, Scott deliberately lifted the first syringe and held it up so that Grissom could see that it was only partially empty.

Realization dawned on Grissom. He held his hands up before his face and found that there was only a slight trembling present. He lowered his hands and stared towards the entrance. The pneumatic pounding in his head had lessened to a slight throbbing, and now that he thought about it, he felt hungry. The nausea seemed to have disappeared.

Looking back at Scott, Grissom said in a low voice, "You gave me only enough in the syringe to stop the withdrawal symptoms. Was I pretty bad off?"

Again, Scott nodded yes. _It had only been a little more than an hour since he had literally carried Grissom up into the mine entrance. His father had been barely conscious and was hallucinating, convulsing, and suffering from the chills. When Scott had finally been able to pulled Grissom through, he had collapsed next to his father, taking in large gulps of air to catch his breath. Grissom's condition continued to deteriorate as the tremors increased. His father had broken out in a cold sweat and lay on his side with his arms wrapped around himself, rocking from side to side. Reaching into the deep pocket of his orderly's uniform, Scott had quickly pulled out the syringes he had stolen from Mallory's lab. Finding the syringe that had been labeled for Grissom's next injection, the young man grabbed Grissom's arm._

_Grissom's convulsions had made it difficult for Scott to administer the injection. He had to be careful not to break the needle in his father's shaking arm while at the same time giving him only enough of the "meds" to relieve the symptoms. Scott practically sat on top of the thrashing man in order to give him the injection. It didn't take long for the symptoms to subside, and as soon as they did, Scott half dragged and half carried the unconscious man onto the air mattress that lay against the mine wall. The young man quickly laid out the rest of the syringes and tried to make his father as comfortable as possible. Checking his wristwatch, Scott realized that he needed to get back to the clinic fairly soon. Sara was due her next treatment within the next couple of hours, and he had to get to her before Mallory arrived. Needing to take care of some of Grissom's medical needs, Scott hoped that the man would wake before he left so that he could let him know to stay put._

Scott put the syringe back on the cooler next to its mates. Facing Grissom, Scott quickly glanced at Grissom, then back to the injured man's feet, and then back to Grissom. Grissom nodded his assent and slowly stretched his feet out once more. The older man observed how meticulously his son dressed his wounds. Scott bandaged both feet and then reached into a knapsack that apparently contained extra clothing. Pulling a pair of white crew socks from the pack, he pulled them onto his father's feet.

Scott stood up. Grissom had been saying something to him, but he was lost in thought. He needed to get back to the clinic soon and get to Sara before Mallory made his appointed stop. Scott gazed back down at his father and gave him a questioning look.

Grissom gestured with his hands and spoke, "Can you hear? Can you speak?"

Scott shrugged his shoulders and gestured,A little on both counts.

"How long…." Grissom started to ask.

His son quickly stopped him. I have to go back to the clinic. Don't have time to talk. Sara.

Grissom simply stared at his son. _Sara was at the clinic? She wasn't a hallucination? She was there in the infirmary. _

"Sara? You know who Sara is? How…how do you…? How is she?"

Scott held up his hands to stop Grissom. He didn't have time to explain everything.

Mallory has been treating her too. Too much to explain right now. They'll be missing me.

Confused, Grissom furrowed his eyebrows and tried to make sense of what Scott had just told him_. Sara is addicted like me? Was I responsible for that too?_ _I should remember…I need to remember…_

Scott quickly reached into the knapsack and pulled out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and another pair of socks. Changing quickly out of his orderly's uniform, Scott stood up before his father.

He gestured to Grissom. Stay here. I'll be back soon. I won't be gone long. There's food in the box next to the coolers and in the other cooler. You should get something to eat. Okay?

Scott regarded the man propped up against the wall a moment more and then added, hesitantly, You should give yourself the rest of that first injection when your symptoms start to return. Don't wait for them to get bad. Give it to yourself if I don't get back before then, okay?"

Grissom looked at the row of neatly lined syringes with distaste and nodded reluctantly. "Okay. You be careful."

Giving the man on the air mattress a curt nod, Scott turned to the entrance and made his way out, carefully replacing the brush to disguise the entrance of the mine.

Grissom watched his son leave. Sighing, he turned his attention to box that Scott had indicated, the rumbling in his stomach reminding him that he should eat. Sliding off the air mattress, Grissom slowly stood up and swayed slightly as he waited for the dizziness to pass. Wincing at the pain shooting through his feet, Grissom hobbled the few steps to the box and explored its contents. Selecting a granola bar and a bottle of water, he hobbled back to the air mattress and sat heavily down.

As he ate, questions flooded through him, making him more confused than ever. Grissom remembered bits and pieces of his life in Vegas. What puzzled him was that he could not relate this life of addiction to what he could remember. The evidence indicated that what Mallory had told him was the truth. Rachel and Scott had survived the explosion. She had started a new life here with their son without him and had never let him know where she was. Mallory admitted that he had arranged for the explosion and the bodies to be found in the car because Rachel had begged Mallory to protect her from him. Rachel had begun a new life with Jones, that evidence plain as day on her tombstone.

Scott's actions puzzled Grissom even more. Though he was grateful for the young man's help and medical attention, Grissom wasn't sure why Scott would want to help him. Why didn't he just turn Grissom back over to Mallory? His son had no reason to help him. In fact, Scott had reasons quite the opposite. Unless…unless Scott wanted revenge for his father's past wrongs concerning him and his mother. The senior CSI contemplated what he knew of the evidence and pondered the enigma of his own son.

***************************************************

Sara was slowly coming out of the drug-induced haze. Her thoughts were a bit foggy as she tried to get her bearings. She remembered very little except that Mallory had injected her with something that sent her whole world spinning. There was a time in Sara Sidle's life where she had drowned her sorrows and anger in alcohol, but Gil Grissom had rescued her from that tailspin. Since then, she had learned that she very much liked to be in control. He had taught her that. The feeling of emerging from a chemically induced trip wrapped itself around Sara. Feeling a bit hung over, she wished for the headache to subside.

With deliberate slowness, Sara brought herself up to a sitting position so that she could keep the dizziness at bay. She took stock of herself, and besides the slight headache, Sara appeared to have no injuries. She was still feeling the residual effects of the drugs Mallory had forced into her. She sighed, mulling over what Mallory had related to her, that she would be instrumental in Grissom's destruction. Drugging her was apparently part of the plan.

The jingle of keys from the other side of the cell door snapped Sara out of her reverie. She tensed up as she watched the door start to swing open.

A/N: Another chapter is in. Thanks for the reviews some of you have left. That has really encouraged me. I doubt that I will be able to post again before Christmas Day….but you never know. Hope that all of you have a wonder Christmas season. Please review and I will see about posting by Christmas day. Thanks again for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

_**Journey Through the Past-**_ Chapter 21

Scott Grissom made his way rapidly through the narrow ravine. The pinks and grays of the early dawn were just starting to peek over the desert landscape. Ordinarily, Scott would have paused and enjoyed the rising of the sun, but he was in a hurry. Time was of the essence, and he feared that he would be too late. Coupled with that, he worried about how Grissom would fare left by himself in the abandoned mine shaft.

Once he got back to the trail that he and Grissom had taken the night before, Scott left the trail and cut through the desert. He would soon be back on the perimeter of the clinic grounds and he would need to change into another orderly's uniform before seeing Sara.

He circled around to the area of the clinic that held the staff quarters. Most of the staff commuted from the nearby communities of Beatty and Goldfield, but occasionally, members of the staff were required to extend their shifts, so most had rooms in which they could stay the night. Scott was the only one on the staff who was housed full-time in the cottage-like apartments. He had lived out here away from Jones since he was sixteen despite Jones' reluctance to let him do so. Jones had a modest house next to the staff quarters, and so allowed Scott to move to the quarters closest to his house so that he could keep tabs on him but, at the same time, allow the young man his growing independence.

Scott climbed the slight hill that led to the staff quarters, and, as he approached the building, Baker rounded the corner of the building pointing his 9mm at the young man. Startled at seeing the guard and having a weapon pointed at him, Scott came to an abrupt halt. Grissom's son eyed the gun warily and held his hands up.

Baker had recognized Grissom's son as he approached the building and waited until he was close to the building. He quickly radioed Mallory that he had spotted Scott wandering in from the desert. Mallory ordered that the young orderly be brought to Jones' office. Baker roughly patted Scott down and shoved him towards the administrative building.

When they reached Ken Jones' office, the door was propped open and Baker shoved the young man through the doorway. Scott stumbled and fell against the desk onto his knees. Quickly, Scott stood up and faced his abuser with clenched fists, his face darkened with anger. Baker grinned and took a step forward.

"Back off, Baker. I'm sure that Arthur has an explanation of why he was out in the desert during our lockdown. Why don't you make yourself useful and try to find our escapee?" said Jones as he stood up from his desk and reached over to lay a calming hand on his Scott's shoulder.

Baker rolled his eyes as he turned and left the office in a huff.

"More than likely he helped Grissom escape," said Mallory dryly, who was reclining on the leather couch near the office door. "The kid is more like Grissom than you think he is, Kenny. I don't trust him."

Scott coolly eyed Mallory; his dislike for the man was growing in leaps and bounds. Grissom's son shook off Jones hand and stood defiantly before Mallory. Turning his attention to Jones, Scott touched the doctor's arm and then turned his attention to the window.

"Did you decide to spend the night in the desert like you have in the past?" asked Jones quietly

Scott turned to look at Mallory and a curt nod.

Jones touched Scott's shoulder to get his attention and asked, "Did you happen to see Grissom out in the desert? Did you see anything?"

Scott feigned a look of surprise, and a smirk slowly crossed his face. He looked at Mallory and simply shrugged his shoulders, and crossed his arms.

Mallory stood up angrily. "Kenny, you'd better teach this boy some manners. It might not be good for his health to be such a smart ass."

"Look, Lucas, it was you and your men who lost Grissom. It didn't have anything to do with Arthur. I'm not going to have you badgering him on something he knows nothing about," Jones shot back.

Turning to Scott, Jones got his attention again and briefly gestured as he said, "Change and start your rounds. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Scott nodded and gave Mallory a wide grin as he left the room.

"Fine. Grissom's woman is due her next dose. I should be getting over there soon to give her next injection. If I find that that kid had anything to do with Grissom being gone, there'll be hell to pay- for both Grissom and the kid," growled Mallory.

"You're not touching Arthur. I've already told you that whatever you do to Grissom, Arthur is not to be touched. He may be connected to the man genetically, but he doesn't know the man at all. Grissom means nothing to him. It's natural curiosity that he would want to know about him. He's an innocent in all this," warned the doctor.

"Kenny, you're being blinded. That kid is more like Grissom than you know. He's got that same irritating smugness about him. You didn't see him when we nabbed Grissom from that safe house. There's a connection. Even though Grissom was out of it, he was still thrashing about, and that kid somehow was about to calm him down for the ride here."

"Arthur believes his father abandoned him and his mother for his drug habit. I've been able to build on that for years. I allowed you to take him because he was curious after he found out about you getting Grissom out of Vegas. He needed to see Grissom in that condition in order to cement the stories about his father I've been feeding him. He hasn't asked to see him or talk to him, has he? No. It's because he thinks the man is an addict and a criminal. He wants nothing to do with him," Jones said flatly.

"Have it your way. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. I've got to get back to my lab and get the woman's next dose. Soon, she'll be as wasted as Grissom," Mallory said as he left his cousin's office.

Ken Jones watch Mallory leave. He almost believed everything he had just told Mallory. The truth was that he knew Arthur did feel that connection and had approached him several times asking him about both Sara and Grissom. So far, he had been able to avoid any real deep conversation about Grissom and Sara, but he knew that he would not be able to avoid the subject much longer. Jones wasn't sure how much Arthur was really buying into the story about Grissom being an addict. The young orderly had experienced and learned too much about the behaviors of recovering addicts here at the clinic. Jones knew that Arthur observed Grissom in the infirmary and had that long ride in from Vegas to also think about. Grissom's behavior was not typical of the recovering addict. For one thing, he was having a hard time relating the use of drug to himself directly. Though Grissom knew all the medical terms and the symptoms, he was plainly bewildered that any of these terms should be applied in any form at all. He had resisted all medication for the most part and that was not typical of a person who was being dried out. The recovering patient almost always begged for whatever addictive substance he was on to relieve the symptoms, but not Grissom. He preferred to suffer and fight through them rather than give in to the soothing relief of the next hit. In fact, when informed that he had been on a combination of PCP and ecstasy, Grissom was genuinely shocked.

Slipping on his lab coat, Jones left his office and headed towards Lucas's makeshift lab. With Lopez and Baker hunting for Grissom, he would make the pretense that Lucas might need the help in giving Sara her next injection. He really hoped that perhaps he could talk his cousin out of the rest of this madness. Grissom may very well be dead from lack of medical attention or any number of the dangers an injured, disoriented man might encounter in the desert. If they didn't find Grissom soon, he would likely die of heat stroke or exposure as the sun was already heating up the Nevada desert. What good would it do to proceed addicting Sara to the same substances if the center of that plan is missing or dead?

****************************************

The cell door swung slowly open, and Sara looked up to see Scott carefully bringing in a tray that held her breakfast. Closing the door behind him, he set the tray down and signed to her.

I know it's a bit early for breakfast but I needed to talk to you before Mallory comes by.

Sara gave him a questioning look and then her look changed to worry.

"Scott, what's happened? Something's wrong. Tell me."

Don't have a lot of time. You just need to know that….

The jangle of keys diverted Sara's attention from Scott, and he stopped what he was saying. Looking at the door, Scott quickly turned and picked up the food tray, as the door swung open and both Mallory and Jones entered the room.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" roared Mallory.

Scott casually turned towards Mallory and held the tray up and cocked his head as if to say, "Just bringing her breakfast. Want some?"

Jones stepped in between Mallory and Scott before he could advance on the young man. "He's just doing his rounds. Sara is part of his patient load. Remember, you didn't want the rest of the staff to handle her since you didn't want any possible leaks about her getting out. Arthur seemed the logical choice to be taking care of her needs."

"Since he's here then, he can help with Sara, especially if she gives us any trouble. If he isn't involved in helping Grissom, then helping us give Sara her next dose shouldn't make any difference to him. It'll be a test of his loyalty to you, Kenny," said Mallory.

"Will that convince you that he has nothing to do with Grissom's disappearance?" asked Jones in a serious tone.

Sara raised herself off the cot despite the dizziness she felt. "Wha..what do you mean Grissom's disappeared? Where is he? You mean with all your planning, he got away from you?" Sara asked incredulously. She smiled in spite of herself.

Mallory turned to Sara, furious at the smug look on her face. "You think that Grissom is coming back here to rescue you? You haven't seen him in the last few days. The addiction has deepened, and, if he isn't dead, he soon will be. He won't be coming back to come and get you because he thinks he's to blame for the death of his dear departed wife. If the withdrawal doesn't kill him, the heat and exposure from the desert will," said Mallory wanting to strike the woman before him.

Sara wasn't fazed. Grissom knew about desert survival, having lived in Vegas for the last fifteen some odd years. Both he and Sara had made regular trips into the desert, camping and exploring the terrain, learning and experiencing the harsh environment. Knowledge of the desert was useful in their line of work, and that knowledge would work for Grissom to help him survive. Sara knew that his will to live would also outweigh the withdrawal; he would fight through it.

Mallory withdrew a syringe from his lab coat pocket and handed the instrument to Jones.

"Here. Give this to Grissom's son. We'll hold her down, and he can give her the injection," said Mallory with a smile on his face.

Turning to Sara, he sneered, "We'll see who has the last laugh, Sara."

Jones handed the syringe to Scott who had already put the tray down. Scott looked down at the syringe with obvious distaste. Jones indicated to him that when they held Sara down, he was to give her the injection in her arm. Scott stared at Jones with resentment but nodded reluctantly to show that he understood. Scott stared at Sara intently and then looked back at the syringe, flipping his attention back and forth between the instrument in his hand and her, trying to get her to understand that the syringe was just filled with saline.

As the two men approached the woman sitting on the cot, Sara tried to leap between the two of them. They quickly had her pinned to the cot. Sara struggled mightily against the men but was held down fast. She rocked her head back and forth, trying to bite one of the arms holding her down.

"Please don't do this," she pleaded to Scott. He approached her slowly, holding the syringe up. Scott took the syringe, plunged it into her arm and then backed away.

Sara felt the sting of the needle, at the same time, being careful to look resentfully at Scott. She let herself slowly relax and go limp. _God, I hope this works, Scott. They'd better buy it. _Sara rolled her eyes up in her head and let out a sigh. Jones and Mallory eased off and backed away from her. She moaned softly and then opened her eyes. She gazed about the room pretending to not being able to focus on one thing.

Mallory stepped back, satisfied. Scott eyed her critically and then looked at Jones. Jones seemed to believe that Sara was really tripping and nodded his approval at Scott. He suddenly felt a surge of anger at the doctor, but calmly handed the empty syringe back to Jones. The young orderly cocked his head towards the door to indicate that he needed to complete his morning rounds and wanted to leave. Jones nodded his permission, and Scott turned and left the room quietly.

Mallory watched the young man leave with amusement in his eyes. "Okay, I guess he passed your test, Kenny, but I still don't trust him. He's still Grissom's son. I do believe that she's right, though. If Grissom is still alive, he'll try to make his way back here to get her. However, she'll be so hooked by then that she'll never be able to crawl out of the hole I've put her in. Won't Grissom be pleased?"

"Let's go, Lucas. I've got rounds, and you still need to find Grissom before someone else does," said Jones.

"I look in on her in a couple of hours."

********************************************

Scott watched the two men leave from inside the supply closet. After waiting for a few minutes, he made his way quickly down the hall and eased his way into Sara's cell. Sara lay on the cot softly moaning and stopped instantly when Scott came through the door.

Scott grinned widely at her and signed, Nice job. Mallory fell for it totally.

"Yeah, well, I had to guess what you were doing. When nothing initially happened, I figured that you were able to switch out the drugs. What's going on with Grissom? Is he okay?" asked Sara.

Scott nodded his head. I had to leave him alone in a place that only I know about. He was awake and coherent, but he's going to need help soon. I didn't have a choice but to let him self-medicate. I couldn't stay.

Sara got up quickly from the cot.

"Well, let's go then. Take me to him or let's at least get some help."

Can't right now. Mallory's men are searching and they're armed. I need to do my rounds or Jones and Mallory will get suspicious. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.

"I think I'll be okay. I'm just feeling dizzy and have a headache. So, do you have a plan? What's next then?" asked Sara.

To tell you the truth, I'm sort of making it up as I go along. Hang tight here. I still have my morning rounds, and I need to rest. I'll come back after I've slept a little, and I'll see if we can get you to Grissom.

"Okay, but hurry, will you?"

Scott nodded, peeked his head out the door, and made his way out. Sara sat back. At least Grissom was away from Mallory's manipulations, but what was his current condition and state of mind?

******************************

Captain Jim Brass held the warrant in his hands to search Grissom's townhouse. Beside him were Warrick Brown and Catherine Willows. The documents Greg had sent to QD had come back inconclusive concerning the legitimacy of Grissom's signatures on the property deeds and the business license for MG Enterprises. All they had was circumstantial evidence of Grissom's involvement in drug trafficking and being an informant for the Fifth Street Knights. As far as Brass was concerned, the evidence was too thin and just _too convenient_.

Sighing, Brass turned to Catherine and Warrick, "Are you ready for this?"

Snapping on latex gloves, Catherine nodded grimly and said, "Let's get this over with."

Taking Grissom's spare key from his pocket, Brass opened the door. Both Brass and Grissom some time ago had agreed to grant power of attorney to each other. Along with that, Grissom had given Jim spare keys to his townhouse and Mercedes. Since Grissom's and Sara's disappearances, Jim had regularly gone to the townhouse to feed Grissom's tarantula and hissing cockroaches, water Sara's plants, and collect the mail. Hank, their dog, was being kept at the sitter's. Brass made it his mission that he paid the sitter, and he took the dog on a walk at least twice a week. Though Brass had been in the townhouse several times in the past few weeks, he didn't notice anything unusual. Then again, he wasn't looking for evidence of criminal activity.

Setting their kits down in the entryway, both Catherine and Warrick made a cursory look of the townhouse. Everything was just as Grissom and Sara had left it the day Sara had disappeared. Except for a fine layer of dust, everything looked as though the residents of the home had left for work and would return after their shift.

"Where do you want to start, Cath?" asked Warrick quietly.

Looking around, Catherine directed her colleague, "Why don't you take the kitchen and living room. I'll start in the office and the bedroom."

"Right. I'm on it," said Warrick, grimly as he watched Brass finish securing the home and then post a uniform at the front door and then one outside the backdoor that led to a small closed-in yard.

Warrick brought his kit into Grissom's kitchen and set it on the counter. The kitchen was well stocked and neat as a pin. Warrick grinned; the neatness of the kitchen was no doubt because of Sara's influence when you consider the usual state of Grissom's cluttered office. The CSI started with the refrigerator and freezer. Brass had long ago thrown out any foods that had spoiled or had reached their expiration dates. Seeing nothing unusual in the refrigerator, Warrick proceeded to the freezer, noting a package of veggie burgers next to a frozen pepperoni pizza. Again, there was nothing unusual about the contents of the freezer, just evidence of two people living together, respectful of each others likes and dislikes.

Warrick continued his investigation of the rest of the kitchen, finding evidence of Sara's influence into Grissom's previous bachelor existence. He found a variety of herbal teas and no coffee to speak of. It was obvious to Warrick that Grissom and Sara had been together for quite some time.

Catherine, in the mean time, was processing the den, in which Grissom had turned into an office for both him and Sara. She carefully looked over the contents that on the top of the desk. There was a copy of the latest forensic journal, along with a case file from Grissom's last case. That case had been handed off to the day shift CSI's after his disappearance. A copy of Shakespearean love sonnets lay open on the corner of the desk to Sonnet 128.

How oft when thou, dear dearest music playest  
Upon that blessed wood whose motions sounds,  
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently swayst  
The wiry concord that mine ear consounds,  
O how I envy those keys that nimble leaps,  
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,  
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reaped  
At the wood boldness by thee blushing stand,  
To be so touched the fain would change their state  
And situation with those dancing chips  
O'er whom your fingers walk with gentle gait,  
Making dead wood more blessed than living lips.  
Since then those keys so happy are in this,  
Give them your fingers, me your lips to kiss.

Catherine smiled to herself. The Gil Grissom she knew was a scientist at heart, but had the soul of a poet. Though he seemed socially awkward at times, she knew that the man felt deeply and was passionate about many things. One of those passions happened to be Sara, and the two of them seemed made for one another. They fit together so well. It had just taken Grissom a long time to realize it, but when he did, there was no turning back for either of them.

Catherine continued her search. She finished with the desk and continued to the bookshelves lining the den's walls. Grissom's book collection was extensive and demonstrated his wide range of interests. Not only were there texts on entomology and other sciences, there were books on poetry, classical literature, art, and music. Catherine quickly scanned through the bookshelves. The books were meticulously organized according to subject matter and then alphabetized by author. Cocking her head to one side, she did a double take. An entomology textbook was tucked in between two Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Reaching up, she took the book down and examined it. As Catherine took the book down from the shelf, she noticed a space open behind the books. Reaching in, she found several filled vials.

"Jim! Rick! I found something," called Catherine.

***********************

A/N: Another chapter in. Thanks for those of you who have taken the time to review. They have been a great encouragement for me to keep going with this. Hope that all of you have a Merry Christmas! becky


	22. Chapter 22

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 22**_

_**A/N: Happy New Year everyone. I decided that I would go ahead put a warning for future chapters here. There will be a character death, though it probably won't happen for a chapter or two. Please, please review. Thanks to all who have, especially during this busy time of year when time is at a premium.**_

Grissom painfully hobbled around the confines of the abandoned mine shaft. Though he had moments of clarity, the constancy of the drugs in his system seemed to hang a veil of haze over his mind. He could not quite focus, and he felt as though he wasn't quite connecting all the dots. Trying to clear the haze, Grissom took stock of his surroundings. His son obviously frequented this little hideaway on a regular basis. The place was well stocked for someone who wanted to get away for a few days. Besides the air mattress, coolers, and the box filled with foodstuffs, Grissom also found backpacking gear, extra clothing, and a comprehensive first-aid kit. Grabbing another energy bar from the box next to the coolers, he sat back down on the air mattress and munched slowly on the bar, hoping that the pain in his stomach would ease off if he something to digest.

He tried to piece the fragments of memory that continued to flash through his mind, thinking that if he concentrated on something else maybe he could put off giving himself the rest of that first syringe. So many things didn't make sense, but the evidence that he had seen with his own eyes seemed to confirm what Mallory had told him. Was he really the monster that Mallory indicated that his was? If he was, why would Scott even want to help him? That didn't make sense. Scott should loathe Grissom for abandoning him and his mother. Grissom shook his head and tried to fit the pieces together to make a coherent picture.

The symptoms were slowly coming back as the trembling in his hands increased. He wasn't sure whether the rising anxiety he was feeling was because of his current situation or because of his body's need for another hit. Swallowing water from the water bottle he had taken from one of the coolers, Grissom hoped the water would help to settle the cramping in his abdomen. He looked with disdain at the row of neatly lined syringes that Scott had left him. He knew that he needed to give himself what remained in that first syringe, but Grissom was loathed to do so. He clenched his fists and wrapped his arms around himself. Shaking his head with disgust at himself, the man realized that he couldn't put off the inevitable.

Rolling his eyes and groaning, Grissom managed to stand up, and he staggered to where the syringes were. Falling to his knees in front of the cooler, he reached his hand out toward the shiny row of needles. His vision suddenly blurred and the single row of needles suddenly became two. _Damn! I waited too long. _Gulping, Grissom fumbled for the first syringe that lay on the cooler. Hoping that it was the right one, he shakily plunged the needle into his arm and depressed the plunger all the way down. Immediately heat traveled up his arm and he fell back panting. Pulling the needle from his arm, he tossed it away from himself.

Grissom lay back and relaxed as the cramps slowly eased off and the trembling settled to a slight shaking. He made his way back to the air mattress and lay on his side. The haziness increased as he started to hear voices outside the shaft call his name. Grissom squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep the panic that was starting to overwhelm him. Mallory and the guards had found him. He was sure of it. Pulling the Beretta that was still tucked into the back of his pants, the drugged man held the gun in front of him, determined to protect himself from his enemies who seemed to be closing in on him.

**********************

Catherine held up the plastic bag that contained the vials. There were more than a dozen tubes in the bag. Six contained crystallized rocks that looked to be rock cocaine. The rest were filled with a clear liquid. Placing the bag carefully in an evidence bag, Catherine handed the evidence bag to Warrick. She reached back up behind the space and found another plastic bag with four syringes. Two of the syringes were empty and the other two were filled. Checking the space once more, Catherine found nothing more out of the ordinary.

"Rick, take this back to the lab and start processing this stuff. Start with trying to get fingerprints off the vials and off of the syringes. Have Hodges process what's in the vials. He should be able to get some trace out of what's left in these empty syringes. Everything has top priority. I'll get Greg and Nick to help me finish processing the townhouse," said Catherine.

Taking the bag of syringes from Catherine, Warrick left the room. Brass brushed past Warrick as he was hurrying out to his Denali. "What did you find Catherine?" asked Brass.

Holding up her hand, Catherine spoke quickly into her cell, "Nicky, I need you and Greg with your kits at Grissom's townhouse. Drop whatever you are doing. Get down here as quick as you can. I'll fill you in when you get here."

Turning her attention to the captain, Catherine surmised, "I found a stash and some syringes behind those books on the bookshelf. Jim, everything tells me that the stuff was planted there. Grissom is pretty particular about how he has his books arranged. If you look at the arrangement, every book has a specific place on the shelf. The books hiding the stash were out of place. It was like a flashing light pointing the way to the stuff. If Grissom was hiding the stuff, he would have been smarter about disguising the hiding place. This stuff was placed here for us to find, I'm sure of it."

"The evidence is falling too neatly into place. First the property titles, the business license, and now this…it feels too much like a set-up. MeKeen has been pressuring me for information. Says the sheriff is pressuring _him_," sighed Brass.

"We'll have to see what trace has come up with, but the evidence we have so far is solid. All we have to the contrary are our gut feelings, and my gut tells me this is all wrong. Let's hope that whoever is setting this all up slips up. So what are you going to do? What are you going to tell McKeen?" asked Catherine.

Jim Brass shrugged his shoulders and gave Catherine a half-smile. "Put him off as long as possible. He already knows about most of what you guys have uncovered. He wants to move in on raiding the various properties and is contacting the surrounding counties for cross-jurisdiction in raiding those properties not in Clark County. McKeen and Conrad have done a pretty good job in keeping the media out of it for the most part. McKeen feels that if Grissom and Mallory are in custody, the blow-up that will happen over all of Grissom's cases can be kept to a minimum."

"Jim, do you really think that Gil was into all this stuff, that he was the mole in the department, and that he was a closet addict?" asked an incredulous Catherine Willows.

"You know, I've been in this business for a lot of years. You think that you know someone. I thought I had it dialed in with Gil. I always thought that Gil was pretty much a straight shooter, you know what I mean? But people can surprise you. Maybe I didn't know Gilbert Grissom as well as I thought I did," said Brass in a quiet voice, a faraway look in his eyes.

Shaking his head, Brass brought himself back to the present. "Catherine, I don't know what to think. The evidence is so damning. If he is being set up, someone is doing a helluva job doing it."

Catherine nodded in agreement.

"Well, the sooner we can process the townhouse, the better. Maybe who ever is doing this left a part of himself behind. If he did, we'll find it."

***********************************8

Sara paced the small confines of her cell, nervous and anxious. The effects of the drug that had been administered to her the day before had long worn off. She had slept little, unsure when Mallory or Jones might reappear with another syringe for her. The slim brunette would have to continue to act like she was under the influence of whatever mind-altering drug they thought they were giving her. Scott had assured her that the doses had been taken care of, but she still felt more than nervous about the whole deal.

Earlier, after he had completed his rounds, Scott had given her a quick update of the plan he had formulated. They would have to wait until after her next "injection" in order to try to make her escape. That would make it around late afternoon. Scott was uneasy about escaping while it was still daylight, but the thought of leaving Grissom alone for that long didn't sit well with either of them. Scott would bring her a change of clothing. He would also need to go to Mallory's lab and the infirmary to stock up on medical supplies he felt sure Grissom would need. Beyond getting both Sara and Grissom out of Mallory's clutches, Scott hadn't figured out much more.

Hearing voices outside her cell door, Sara made it quickly back to the cot, laid down, and shut her eyes. She heard the door squeak open and footsteps approach the cot.

"I think maybe we should wait. She's not even conscious," Sara heard Jones quietly comment.

Jones then bent down and started to take Sara's vitals. Sara tried to stay relaxed, but the moment Jones touched her, she instantly stiffened. The doctor started in surprise and then stared intently at the young woman lying on the cot. He shook her slightly.

"C'mon, Sara, wake up. Rise and shine. Sara, wake up," said Jones in a loud voice.

Sara slowly opened her eyes and squinted at the doctor bent over her as if she were trying to focus her eyes.

"Wha..where am I," Sara whispered slowly.

Jones sat back on the cot and observed the young woman.

"How are you feeling?" asked Jones with a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Dizzy…headache," said Sara slowly, hoping that Jones was buying the performance.

An impatient Mallory stepped forward and tried to hand Jones the syringe that was in his hands.

"Let's give her the shot and let's get out of here. I've got stuff to do. The boys still haven't found Grissom and time is running out. We've got to find him soon, dead or alive, or the plans I set in motion in Vegas will be for naught."

Jones took the syringe and looked at the label.

"Are you sure that you didn't make a mistake? She shouldn't be reacting like this. I expected her to be more out of it. She's much more reactive than I expected," said Jones in a low voice.

Sara started to sit up and held her head in her hands to make the men believe that she was suffering from dizziness and a pounding headache. She groaned softly.

Mallory shrugged, "Remember when we started Grissom's treatments…how we had to increase his dosages much more than we anticipated because it took more and more to get him to trip? I probably am not giving her enough. Let's give her this shot and I'll go back to the lab and make up another dosage and bring it right over. I'll have to adjust all the other dosages."

Jones nodded slowly. That seemed to make sense, but he had the feeling that that was not was going on here. He wasn't sure how he knew, but something was going on.

Taking the syringe from his cousin, Jones gestured to Mallory to help him hold Sara while he gave her the injection. Mallory stepped forward and roughly grabbed Sara's arms. Sara struggled against the rough hands that held her down, screaming for them to leaving her alone. Jones leaned in and quickly plunged the needle into her arm.

Sara felt the sting of the needle and gradually quit her struggle against Mallory. She closed her eyes and let her body go limp. Sara moaned softly as the men eased off of her. She waved her arms weakly and rocked her head back and forth. Both men stepped back, observing their handiwork.

"I'll prepare another syringe and bring it back here. I don't think that you need to help me. She looks like she'll be no trouble," said Mallory with a smile.

"Fine. I have a clinic to run and patients to treat. I really don't have time for this nonsense," said Jones.

After both men left, Sara sat up.She was in trouble. Scott's plan was not going to work if Mallory came back with another dose for her. There was no telling what would be in this next shot, but Sara was sure that it would not be a full dose as Mallory did not want her to overdose. Still, she needed to have her wits about her if Scott's plan was going to work.

*********************************************

The under sheriff punched his cell phone again, trying to get a hold of either Jim Brass or Catherine Willows. He wanted to know how the investigation was going. He needed to move on this and the powers that be wanted both Grissom and Mallory taken care of. Impatiently, he listened to his phone ring and ring.

"Dammit! C'mon Brass pick up," exclaimed McKeen, looking disgustedly at his phone. He had gotten permission to raid the properties that LH Holding company and MG Enterprises held title to in Clark County only. He was pretty sure that Grissom was not being held in Clark County but in one of the outlying counties. Until more evidence against Grissom and Sidle was discovered, McKeen would have to hold tight on raiding the properties not in his jurisdiction.

Sighing, McKeen hit speed dial for Officer Daniel Prichard. Officer Prichard had earned the highest scores on the shooting range of all the officers on the force. McKeen would need the officer's skills when Grissom's and Sidle's whereabouts were discovered.

*******************************

Baker and Lopez searched through the gardens once more hoping to find some traces of their escapee. They reached the trail below the gardens and found a faint trail of blood. Following the trail, they circled around the far end of the gardens and continued through the desert where they lost the trail of blood.

Scanning the area before them, Baker took notice of several narrow ravines that fanned out from where they stood. Grissom could have gone up any one of these ravines.

"Let's split up. You take that one farthest that direction, and I'll take the one next to it. Grissom couldn't have gone far. It looks like these rocks were tearing up his feet pretty badly. Those ravines look pretty rocky and narrow. He wasn't in any condition to much climbing," said Baker.

Lopez nodded and proceeded to trudge his way to the narrow opening. The desert heat was causing the desert landscape to shimmer, and the men continued their search for the Grissom.

A couple of hours later, the men continued to explore the rest of the ravines. They decided to explore the widest ravine together. Here there was a sandy wash that ran down the center of the ravine. The men reasoned that of the routes that Grissom could have taken, this one was the most likely. Entering the canyon, they climbed their way up the canyon, finding a narrow trail along the sandy wash. When they were close to the end of the ravine, they found the bloody remnants of a sock. Searching the area closely, they could not see any sign of Grissom or his body.

"I think that maybe he was able to climb out of here. Let's climb up over those rocks. It looks like he could have made his way up that way," said Baker, pointing to a steep incline dotted with huge boulders and brush.

Grissom had drifted off into a hallucinogenic haze. He heard men's voices and tried to remember where he was. It seemed that he was in some kind of cave. Looking down, he held a 9mm Beretta in his shaking hands. Tilting his head back, Grissom slowly remembered coming to the shaft, and that he was escaping from a rehabilitation clinic. Scott had brought him here. Crawling to the entrance of the shaft, he peeked through the brush in time to see Baker and Lopez climbing up the same side of the ravine the shaft was hidden.

Cold sweat broke out across Grissom's forehead as he nervously braced his back against one side of the entrance, hoping that the thick cover of brush was enough to hide the opening. As the voices of the two guards became louder and closer, Grissom shut his eyes and held the Beretta in front of him with both hands. He listened to their conversation as he waited for them to discover where he was.

"Sam, Grissom's dead I tell ya. He's coyote bait. We need to get back to the clinic and tell Mallory so that if any plans need to change he can make 'em," commented a panting Lopez.

"Yeah, I doubt that we find him. It's already hotter than hell out here. I thought I saw some turkey buzzards circling around not far from here. My bet is they found Grissom's carcass. It'll take us too long to find out what those birds are feeding on, but my guess is that it's got to be Grissom. My guess is that now that Grissom is dead, Mallory won't have much use for Grissom's woman. She was pretty wasted from her last hit. I'm sure she's probably on her knees begging Mallory to give more of the stuff. Mallory had her treatment all planned out. I wonder if that will change," came Baker's comment.

Grissom slowly relaxed as he realized that the men had climbed past the entrance and not noticed the entryway. Slumping against the wall, he tried to think. Sara was in trouble. Scott was bringing her here, but Mallory was treating her for drug addiction. His only thought was that he had to get to Sara somehow. Scott would not know that Mallory's guards would be reporting back.

Crawling deeper into the shaft, Grissom grabbed the backpack that contained the extra clothing and pulled out a pair of boots. Hoping that his feet would fit into them, he painfully worked his feet into the boots. They were a little snug because his feet were still swollen and sore, but he able to pull them on and lace them up.

Shakily standing up, Grissom staggered to the entrance of the mine. He leaned against the entrance, gulping in mouthfuls of air, trying to gain his bearings. Tucking the Beretta once more in the back of his pants, Grissom waited a few minutes to make sure that Mallory's guards had left, and then carefully climbed down from the opening and slowly made his way down the ravine back towards the clinic.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 23**_

Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders finished processing Grissom's townhouse and had brought several bags of evidence to be processed. Catherine and Jim Brass were in the layout room looking at photos of the safe house from where Grissom had been taken. In a file before them were the results from the tox screens that Hodges had run through Trace from the syringes. In addition, he had recovered epithelials from the used syringes. Mandy had also been able to lift fingerprints from the syringes.

"Cath, tell me that both Hodges and Mandy made a mistake on these results," said Brass in a quiet voice.

"Jim, the evidence is just the evidence. There's no mistake. Gil's fingerprints and DNA were found on and in both syringes. He's been using," Catherine said in a quiet voice.

"No, there's got to be an explanation. This is not the Gil Grissom that I know. This all centers around Lucas Mallory. We find his connections, we unravel this whole thing, including who the mole is in the department," said Brass.

Catherine stepped back from the layout table and in a frustrated voice commented, "I feel like we're starting from square one on this thing. It just keeps getting worse and worse. Okay, let's go over again everything we can find on Mallory, including any family and friends before he was sent to prison for the series of murders in LA."

"The under sheriff has warrants to start raiding the properties connected with MG Enterprises and LH Holding Company in the surrounding counties. McKeen wants to start in Esmeralda and Nye Counties. There are a number of desert properties that LH Holding has had for years and three of those properties have transferred ownership to MG Enterprises in the last six months. There's an abandoned mining company near Tonopah, an abandoned ranch, and a small rehabilitation clinic just north of Goldfield. He's not going to want to wait for whatever your team comes up with on these background checks."

"Okay, we report this evidence to the sheriff, but let's keep Greg here to do the research on all the players. Nicky and Rick will go with you and the sheriff. I want the boys up there to gather any evidence and to keep things kosher. I'll stay here with Greg and work on the evidence that we've got and do some more checking in AFIS and CODIS. I'll keep you updated on anything we uncover. Agreed?"

Brass nodded his assent and left Catherine examining the photos before her.

************************************************

Scott watched Mallory and Jones leave the building from where Sara was being held. They went straight to where Mallory's lab was located. Crossing the compound, Scott entered the building with another food tray in his hands. If he was right, they had just given Sara what they thought was another dose of Mallory's concoction. It would be the right time to get her out of the clinic.

He unlocked Sara's cell door and swung the door open. Sara lay on the cot, but she paid no attention to the fact that he had entered her cell. Puzzled, he set the tray down and knelt beside her. Sara slowly became aware of Scott's presence. She lifted her head and tried to focus her gaze on the young man.

Scott was swimming in and out of focus. She sat up slowly, dizziness making her see double.

"Scott," she whispered, "They gave some of the real stuff. They…they decided that the first dose wasn't good enough and gave me another shot."

Then Sara started to giggle, "I guess I'm a real lousy actress. Jones thought I needed more cuz' I wasn't out of it enough. This stuff does make you feel real good though. Maybe…maybe you should ask to try some."

Scott sat back, trying to figure out what to do next. He was sure they wouldn't have given her a full dose. Maybe he could get through to her. He needed her to sober up so that he could get her to Grissom. God knows what condition his father was in by now. Looking critically at Sara, Scott realized that she was in no condition to leave, let alone to help Grissom medically. He would have to wait until this dose had somewhat worn off.

Thinking, Scott decided to try to get her to eat something off the food tray. She had eaten very little since the "treatments" had started just so that Mallory wouldn't be suspicious that maybe the doses weren't working. Obviously, Sara's acting wasn't quite up to snuff so they had given her more of the drugs. They wouldn't have given her a full dose or they would run the risk of an overdose. The effects should wear off sooner than a full dose. He would just have to wait. Picking up the peanut butter sandwich that lay on the tray, he encouraged her to eat.

"Not hungry," said Sara in a low voice, trying to concentrate. _There was something important we were going to do…What was it? _Sara shook her head and pushed the sandwich away from her.

Forcing Sara to look at him, Scott used both his hands to turn her head towards him. Releasing her, he talked to her and signed to her.

Sara, I need you to concentrate. We've got to get to Grissom before he gets too sick. You need to eat something. It will help you. We can't go until this dose wears off a little and you can think a little clearer. Understand?

Sara looked hard at Scott and tried to understand his words. _Grissom…right…Grissom in trouble…need to help him.._ She slowly nodded and took the sandwich from the plate. Taking a small bite, she chewed slowly and swallowed. Scott nodded his approval, and she continued to nibble.

Scott stood up and signed to her.

I'll be back in an hour or two and see how you're doing. We'll leave as soon as it's safe and you can think a little better, okay?

The slightly dazed woman nodded and continued to eat the food that Scott had brought her. Scott left the building and continued across the compound. He needed to go to supply and get clothing for Sara. Feeling a little anxious in the change of plans, Scott fought the urge to leave the compound to check on Grissom. He wasn't sure where Mallory's guards were hunting for Grissom, and he would need to know where they were when he and Sara headed out. Scott would need to search for the guards and learn what their plans were in order to figure out the safest route to leave the clinic.

************************

He could hear voices in the distance. The man paused momentarily, hoping that the dizziness might pass. He gulped in great mouthfuls of air. Grissom staggered forward, losing his balance, sliding the rest of way down the steep side of the ravine, smacking hard against a boulder. Blinking to try to focus his vision, Grissom struggled to stand up. Touching the side of his head with his right hand, he was surprised to see his hand sticky with blood. His injured left wrist was sending needles of pain up his arm so he held his wrist close to his chest. Leaning up against the boulder, Grissom tried to get his bearings. _Gotta get to Sara…gotta go…c'mon Gil, get it together…_He shut his eyes tightly, trying to fight off the vertigo. Somewhere in the far reaches of his drug-induced state, he knew that he was hallucinating, but no amount of logic could separate what was real and what was not. Biting his lip, he straightened up, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes.

The world was spinning and looping before him. Now the voices that he thought he heard in the distance were starting to echo and become louder. Moaning softly, he sank to his knees and wrapped his arms about himself as if he were trying to hold himself together. Grinding his teeth together, Grissom once again struggled to his feet and fought off the urge to fall flat on his face. Staggering forward, he willed himself step by step down the narrow wash, occasionally stumbling against a boulder in order to retain his balance. Sweat beaded across his forehead as the desert sun beat down on him. Panting from exertion, Grissom slowly made his way closer to the clinic. The landscape shimmered and blurred in front him as the heat continued to drain his energy.

*********************************

The cloudiness that hovered over her thoughts gradually lifted, and she was able to focus her mind on the rest of the food that had been left before her. Though she was not hungry, she knew that she should eat the remains of what was left on the tray._ What did Scott say? It would help me to sober up? Said he was coming back soon. Need to be ready to go to Grissom? _She picked up the small apple that was on the tray and bit into it. Chewing slowly, she thought back what had occurred over the last day. Grissom had somehow escaped and Scott had been able to find him a safe place to stay away from the clinic. Apparently Grissom was suffering from severe withdrawal from the same hallucinogenic drugs that Mallory had been giving to Sara. Her body had not quite developed the physical craving for the substances, but Sara felt an uncharacteristic panic and anxiousness rising within in her. She noticed a slight trembling in her limbs and the beginnings of mild cramping in her abdomen.

Scott quickly rummaged through the boxes stacked in the far reaches of the storage room in the staff housing building. Here, Jones had stored Rachel's clothing and personal items after she had passed away. Scott guessed that Sara looked to be the same size his mother had been, perhaps Sara being a little taller. He found a pair of old jeans, hiking boots, and an oversized faded blue T-shirt. Stuffing the clothing into the laundry bag he had brought, Scott hurriedly closed up the cartons and pushed them back into place. The next place he needed to go to was the infirmary for additional medical supplies that Grissom might need. By then it would be late afternoon and the long shadows of the approaching dusk would provide some cover to get Sara safely away from the clinic.

**************************

Baker and Lopez stood just on the edge of the outer perimeter of the clinic. They had reported to Mallory their sighting of the turkey vultures and the bloody sock. Mallory, who wasn't convinced that Grissom was actually dead short of finding his baked carcass brought in from the hot Nevada desert, had ordered the men to continue to search by circling the perimeter of the clinic in an ever-widening circle. They were to search until they found him, dead or alive. The clinic was miles from any major highway or city or town, the only access to the facility being a long stretch of winding dirt roads. Grissom wouldn't have gotten far in his condition and in this heat. The man had to be found. There was no other option as far as Mallory was concerned.

Scanning the expanse of desert landscape spread out before them, Lopez asked, "Where do we start?"

Sighing, Baker commented, "I guess we just keep looking. Grissom has been in out here far longer than a healthy man could survive without water. I expect we're looking for a dead body. C'mon. We got to get going or Mallory will have our hides."

The two men proceeded to hike through the desert, circling the clinic in an ever-widening arc. From the shadowed edge of one of the outlying the buildings, Scott observed the two men as they continued their search. He figured that he could get Sara out and away from the clinic when the two men were on the far side of the clinic opposite from where Sara was being housed. A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder as he was about to leave the shadow of the building.

"Arthur, what are you doing out here?" asked a curious Ken Jones.

Seeing Lopez and Baker disappear through the brush, Jones continued, "Watching Mallory's guards, are you?"

Scott nodded yes and glanced over his shoulder where Grissom had been held. Jones followed his gaze and looked back at the young man he considered to be his son.

"No, they haven't found Grissom yet," Jones said to Scott. "Do you care whether they find him or not?"

Scott shrugged and looked at Jones with his intense blue eyes.

"Arthur, you know that I love you, right? Whatever plans that Mallory has for Grissom has nothing to do with you. I won't let him hurt you."

Scott continued to look at Jones, wondering how far he could trust the man standing before him. He turned his head and stared out into the desert.

Jones studied Scott for a moment and then touched his shoulder to indicate that he wanted the young man to look back him.

"You care about him, don't you, Arthur? He's more than just a curiosity to you, isn't he? Why?"

Then realization edged into Jones' consciousness.

"Arthur, you did help him to escape, didn't you? I don't know what to say. I…I raised you like you were my own son. I loved both you and your mother. Why would you do this?"

Scott backed slowly away from Jones, his hands clenched at his sides. Scott had stopped talking when his mother had died and had slowly retreated into himself. Jones had no idea how much Scott could hear and just figured that the reason the young man no longer spoke was because of his inability to hear. Now Jones stood in shock when he heard Scott speak in a low voice.

"You lied to me all these years. My mother never loved you and you never saved her from an abusive drug-addicted husband. Grissom doesn't fit that bill. She told me to try to find my dad someday. She stayed here because she was afraid _**for**_ him, not _**of **_him."

"Son, you don't understand… I can explain," pleaded the doctor.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your son. I'm not anyone's son," spat an angry Scott Grissom.

"Look, I…I didn't have a choice when you were a baby. I owed Mallory. His business partners financed my way through medical school. I had to take your mother and you in. At first, she tried to get away until she realized that for your sake and Grissom's that it was better to stay. Later, she learned to love me and I fell in love with her. She…she changed me…This clinic is because of her. She made me want to change. Arthur, there's too much to explain right now. I'm trying to make things right, but it's complicated," Jones continued.

Scott's eyes grew huge as the haggard man staggered around the corner of the building behind Jones and held a 9mm Berretta to Jones' head.

"Grissom!" exclaimed Scott in a soft voice.

"I'm..I'm sure that you have a lot to say, doctor. Right now I'm not interested," gasped Grissom. Flipping the safety off the weapon and cocking the trigger, Grissom shakily pressed the gun against the side of Jones' head and leaned heavily against the wall. Stiffening with a panicked look on his face, Jones stood straighter and held his hands up, staring straight ahead at Scott.

"Grissom…listen to me. I can help you. I can hide you and help you. I had to go along with Mallory's plan. I can get you off the drugs," Jones said desperately.

"Shut up…just shut up."

Grissom was not going to be distracted. "You're going to take us to Sara. Right now," ordered Grissom in a weak voice.

A/N: Another chapter in. It took a little longer than I anticipated and I'm still behind on work. Anyway, now that I've had 100 reviews on this story, I'm hoping that they will continue. It will certainly encourage me to keep going. Hope everyone had a Happy New Year!


	24. Chapter 24

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 24**_

Voices were echoing through his mind and he wanted desperately to drop the gun pressed against Jones' head and hold it against his own. His broken left wrist was throbbing and his aching ribs made it almost impossible to breathe. His vision was blurring, the images before him doubled causing him to shut his eyes.

"Grissom,"came the soft voice, "You need to give me the gun. We'll get to Sara, but, first, you have to give me the gun."

Grissom's eyes sprang open and he saw his son standing in front of Jones with his hand reaching out for the gun.

Scott had seen his father lurch around the corner and hold the gun to Jones' head. He was mesmerized by the sight of the father he had just discovered and the man who wanted to be locked together. Shaking himself to do something, he could see that Grissom was losing his battle to keep what little control that he had been able to muster together. Though he didn't trust Jones and was angry for his part in the destruction of his family, Scott did not wish the man dead. He had to do something to save Grissom from himself and to save Jones from certain death if this scenario continued.

"Please…please..._**Father**_…you need to give me the gun, I…I'll guard him for you, but we've got to get to Sara. She's waiting for us. C'mon…please," asked Scott, the urgency in his voice evident. The last thing they needed right now would be to have Mallory or his sycophants show up and really complicate matters.

Jones looked up sharply at the young man, hurt obviously showing in his eyes, but he remained silent. Scott had never once acted as though he was a father to him in all the years he had raised the young man. Yet just after knowing this injured man for a short while had referred to him as _**Father.**_ Resentment started to filter through to Jones.

Grissom, too, was startled by Scott's use of the term. He sucked in his breath. Was it real or was it a hallucination? Grissom couldn't tell, but he wasn't about to give up his one bargaining chip.

"N…no…Scott…can't…ju…just take us to Sara. I need you to take us to Sara," pleaded Grissom softly, his shaking evidently worsening by the second.

Scott backed off and slowly nodded. He didn't have time to argue. Looking across the compound to make sure that they would not be seen by prying eyes, Grissom's son signaled for the men to stay where they were while he checked things out. They would have to stay in the shadows of the buildings in order to avoid detection. Scott swiftly crisscrossed his way to the next building. The young man hung back in the shadows, his heart jumping into his throat. Around the corner, walking quickly, and obviously angry, was Mallory, who making his way to the administration building.

_Probably looking for Jones. This could be a problem. _Scott waited until the man had entered the building and then quickly signaled for Jones and Grissom to make their way towards him.

Grissom roughly pushed Jones forward and lowered the Beretta so that it was pressed against the doctor's back and out of sight for anyone who was just glancing their way. Grasping Jones' shoulder more for support than to keep the man under control, Grissom staggered forward trying to focus his vision on his son who was waving them frantically to the waiting shadows. Jones moved forward stiffly, well aware of the shaking gun that was pressed up against his back.

"Grissom, you don't have to do this. I can help you….just put the gun down. I…I can hide you from Mallory and give you the medical help that you need. I can do the same for Sara," said Jones in a low voice, while keeping his head forward, staring at Scott.

"Shut up….just shut up," Grissom said in a tight whisper.

Scott watched the two men make their way towards him with increasing distress. The two men were weaving back and forth along the side of the building trying to make it to the dark alleyway between the two buildings where Scott was waiting. Grissom was sweating profusely, and Scott could see the grip that he had on Jones' shoulder was tightening despite the broken wrist. When they reached the darkened area between the two buildings, Grissom shoved Jones against one of the walls before collapsing on his knees, gasping. Dizziness swept over him, and he started to shake uncontrollably.

Jones swiftly crouched down and took Grissom's vitals. Grissom felt his heart thundering in his chest as sweat continued to pour down him.

Pushing Jones away roughly, Grissom pointed the gun at him and cocked the trigger.

"Don't touch me," the man panted.

"Grissom, you need relief. Please, I can help you," pleaded Jones as he eyed the gun. Jones stood and backed a step away, giving the man some space.

"No more drugs," ground out Grissom, "Ju..just get me to Sara."

Scott, knowing that his father needed something to relieve the pain and the effects of the drugs that were in his system, realized that Grissom would not make it to the building in which Sara was being held prisoner. Once they did get him there, his condition would only worsen. The man's condition needed to be stabilized quickly if they were going to even attempt an escape. Around the corner was Mallory's lab. If Grissom could make it there, they would be able to at least lessen the effects of the drugs. They would have to move quickly as there was no telling how long Mallory would be before he would return to the lab.

"Father, Sara is clear across the compound. You won't make it. Jones is right. You need something to stabilize you. Mallory's lab is around the corner. If you can make it there, we can use a room next to the lab and probably get you something so that you will feel more in control. I can bring Sara to you," said Scott in a low voice, hoping that his words would convince Grissom to go with this plan.

As Grissom felt his control continuing to slip, he tightened his grip on the weapon. Scott reached down and helped his father stand up on wobbly legs. Glancing at his son, Grissom straightened his stance and reluctantly nodded.

"Lead the way, Scott," he rasped, as he motioned for Jones to turn around and pressed the Beretta into the man's back, his injured left hand grasping Jones's shoulder once more for support.

***********************************************************

Greg Sanders entered the layout room with a sheaf of papers in his hands. The person he sought was going over the reports sent from Vartann on gang members with recent arrests, releases from prison, and convictions from the 5th Street Knights.

"Catherine, I found a link that has real possibilities. I don't know why we didn't catch this before, but look at this. I think I might know where Grissom and Sara might have ended up. Hopefully, they'll still be there, and this whole mess can be cleared up," said the eager young CSI.

Catherine looked up at her colleague and gave him a skeptical look. "Okay, Greg. What did you uncover?"

"It seems that this Lucas Mallory had a cousin, one Kenneth Jones, MD. He's a doctor specializing in psychiatry. He deals with patients who have addiction problems."

"Okay, Greg. So what's this got to do with Grissom? Just because he's related to an escaped convict doesn't necessarily mean that he is mixed up with his cousin's criminal activity," countered Catherine.

"Catherine, there's more. He heads up a clinic entitled The Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions. It's located a few miles north of Goldfield. The property was owned by LH Holding and its title was transferred to MG Enterprises a few months ago," explained an excited Greg Sanders.

The lead CSI took the papers from Greg and studied his findings. Giving him a wide grin, she handed them back to him. Consulting the map of Nevada, Catherine pinpointed the approximate location of the clinic.

"Okay, I'll call Brass. He and the guys are with McKeen serving warrants for two properties in Beatty. This clinic is in Esmeralda County, about an hour and half from where they are. I believe that the clinic is in Judge Steven Andersen's jurisdiction in Esmeralda County. Brass will need to get the warrant from him," said Catherine as she picked up her cell phone.

"Hey, Jim…."

*****************************

Mallory radioed Lopez, anxious to see what progress his men had made. He nervously paced the room that served as his lab as he held the radio before him.

"Lopez, what's your status? Any sign of Grissom."

There came a few seconds of static as Lopez's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Ummm…N…no sir…we're still looking. We're…we're checking under every rock. We found some boot prints that were headed through the desert, but it couldn't have been Grissom. He didn't have any shoes. It's probably Grissom's kid when he was traipsing around out here."

"Well, keep looking. It'll be dark again soon, and this is taking too long. I want him found. You hear me!" Mallory shouted angrily into the radio.

"Yes…yes, we're on it."

Lopez turned to Baker who had been listening to the brief conversation. Baker shrugged his shoulders and lifted the binoculars hanging around his neck to continue scanning the desert landscape. The shadows of late afternoon were starting to grow long. Mallory had made it clear that they would keep searching until they found their escapee. Grimly, they continued their search. Grissom was going to buy it if and when they found his sorry ass for getting them on the wrong side of Mallory.

********************************************

Leaving the sheriff's station in Beatty, Brass handed the warrant to do a search and seizure at the Nevada Clinic for Addictions to Under sheriff Jeff McKeen. Catherine had relayed the information Greg Sanders had researched and Brass had been able to get the warrant processed quickly.

"Do we know exactly where is clinic is, Captain?" asked McKeen as he leafed through the paperwork.

"According to Sheriff Bond, it's a few miles north of Goldfield, off a dirt road called Dry Canyon Road. Pretty fitting for the middle of the desert," said Brass wryly. "Incidentally, the clinic is out of his jurisdiction so he called Sheriff Taylor in Esmeralda County in Goldfield to request back up. Taylor and a deputy will meet us in Goldfield and lead us in."

McKeen looked out north through the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon.

Thinking out loud, McKeen mused,"It's late afternoon now. By the time we get to Goldfield and meet up with Taylor, it will be dark. Then we'll have to find the place. If Grissom and Mallory are there, would it be better to wait until dawn? Too easy to disappear into the desert with night approaching. There are all kinds of caves, abandoned mining shafts, and canyons out there a couple of men could hide in."

Turning to the captain, McKeen informed Brass of his decision.

"Jim, let's get to Goldfield and meet up with Taylor. Once we get there, we can map out a strategy. An early morning sweep might work out the best. They're in remote location. We go in there at night, they'll see us miles out and might escape. Grissom and Mallory, if they're there, aren't going anywhere."

"Jeff, I just soon get this over with. I know the evidence against Grissom is overwhelming, but the sooner we get our hands on these guys, the sooner we'll be able to figure out what's what. We can go in using night vision goggles and lights out."

McKeen shook his head.

"I want this done right. I don't want any chance for there to be a screw up. I want this planned out. No slip ups. We'll wait until just before dawn," said McKeen with finality. "Let's load up and head on up to Goldfield. Taylor's waiting."

McKeen turned from Brass and got into the waiting patrol car. Pritchard was behind the wheel.

"Pritchard, we're headed to Goldfield. Are you clear on what you're supposed to do when we get the clinic? I want Mallory and Grissom taken care of."

Officer Pritchard cast a sideways glance at the under sheriff and said in an impatient tone, "Yeah, I'm clear on what I'm supposed to do. You've been over it enough over the last day or so. Don't worry. Grissom and this Mallory won't be a problem."

"Yeah, well, Grissom was supposed to be taken care of at the safe house. Look how that turned out," grumbled McKeen

A/N: This chapter is somewhat short. It was either that or go miles long. Things are starting to come together though. Please review and tell me what you think. They really keep me going. Thanks! becky


	25. Chapter 25

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 25**_

Unlocking the cell door next to Mallory's lab, Scott swung the door wide open. Jones staggered forward and fell to his knees after being shoved in by Grissom. Grissom leaned against the door frame for support, gasping for breath. Perspiration had soaked through the denim shirt he was wearing as heat seemed to emanate from him in waves.

"Grissom, let me help you. In the lab next door, I can get what you need to relieve the withdrawal and only the withdrawal. I promise that whatever I give won't have you tripping. It'll just relieve the symptoms so that you can think," Ken Jones said from his position on the floor.

"N..no, I don't trust you. I…I don't know who to trust," Grissom confessed shakily.

Scott touched Grissom on his shoulder. "You need relief. I can get you a dose from Mallory's lab, but it would only be my best guess. Jones can get you the right dosage. It will only take a moment, but we would have to do this quickly. Mallory will be back, and he may have his guards with him," Scott said urgently to his father.

Grissom was at an impasse. He wasn't sure what to think…who to trust. The man before him had stolen his wife and child. Mallory…Mallory had shown Grissom evidence of his own addiction. Mallory had told him that Rachel had left him. The grave in the gardens seemed to prove that she had not only made a new life without him, but had begun a new one with Jones. Mallory had revealed these truths to him. Would Jones have told him the truth? Grissom turned to look at his son standing before him and then back to Jones. Scott's loyalty came into question as Grissom's mind shifted into overdrive.

"I abandoned you and your mother. Why…why do you want to help me? Your loyalty should be to the doctor there. He raised you, didn't he? Protected you? Loved you? I wasn't there for you."

Grissom backed away from Scott and tried to wrap his mind around all that had been revealed to him. He alternated pointing the gun at Scott and then at Jones. Scott stared at his father with huge eyes. Confusion was reigning supreme in Grissom, and the anxiety he was feeling was growing by leaps and bounds. Taking deep breaths, Grissom tried to calm down, the logical part of his mind trying to tell him it was the drugs. Logic told him that he was being manipulated and controlled but he couldn't wrap himself around the conflicting stories that were being thrown at him.

"Grissom! We've been looking for you…I've been worried," Lucas Mallory said softly.

Grissom whipped around and pointed the weapon at the newcomer. Mallory cautiously stepped forward with his hands up. He had heard the entire conversation between Grissom, Jones, and Scott. So Grissom's son could talk and hear. Mallory could use this to confuse the man even further.

Jones and Scott were inside the cell, and Grissom had been too pre-occupied to notice the quiet opening and closing of the door at the end of the hall. Mallory, momentarily startled, was surprised to see his quarry standing partially in the doorway next to his lab. He stood quietly for a moment, observing the man. Grissom's attention was obviously focused on whoever or whatever was in the room. Hearing the man's quiet lament, Mallory took advantage of Grissom's confused state.

"Grissom, remember it was me who told you about Rachel and the baby. Jones kept that from you, didn't he? He stole her from you, made her love him, stole your son from you. I've been trying to help you. . Grissom, I've been trying to wean you off the drugs. Don't you remember?" said Mallory in a low, soft voice.

"Quit talking," rasped Grissom and waved the Beretta towards the cell, "Get in there. Get in there with them."

Grissom swung the gun back and forth between Jones, Scott, and Mallory trying to keep them all at bay. Mallory was slowly inching his way closer to the armed man.

"Grissom, hand me the gun, and this will be all over. You want this to be all over, don't you? Sara…Sara is waiting for you. I'll take you to her, but I can't as long as you are holding the gun," continued Mallory.

"Shut up…just shut up," Grissom said in a tight voice, his breathing becoming labored.

Waving the Beretta at Mallory, Grissom whispered, "Damn you…just get in there…now."

Grissom took a shaky step backward to allow the man to pass by. Mallory moved slowly forward and briefly contemplated trying to wrestle the gun from the sick man's hand, but thought better of the idea when Grissom cocked the weapon and pointed it at his head. Grissom was rapidly losing his self-control and any sudden moves might cause the man to discharge the weapon. Cautiously, Lucas Mallory slid past Grissom and entered the room.

Lifting his right hand that was holding the gun, Grissom wiped the perspiration from his forehead. His left arm was held tightly across his middle to help with the pain from both the aching, swollen wrist and his injured ribs. The three men in the cell stood stock still, not sure what Grissom was going to do next. The injured man straightened up slightly and tried to think clearly. _Who of these three can I trust the most? The least? At all? God, I can't do this for much longer. I've got to make a decision. C'mon Gil…figure it out."_ Sighing, he had to move forward somehow and decided on a path to follow.

"Scott, get the keys from Jones and Mallory and bring them here. Hurry, please," Grissom ground out between clenched teeth. "Then I want you to get some tape or rope. I need you to tie them up and gag them. Scott, hurry."

Scott gave Grissom a quick nod and turned to the two men. Holding out his hand towards Jones, he stared at the man with his piercing blue eyes. Jones slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his ring of keys and slowly placed the keys onto Scott's outstretched hand, never looking away from his would-be son. Scott turned to Mallory and held his hands out for the man's keys, but Mallory looked at Grissom.

"Grissom, are you going to trust him? He's been under Jones's influence all these years. You're going to trust him over me?"

Trying to keep his knees from buckling, Grissom leaned harder into the doorway. The weight of the gun seemed to triple as his shaking continued to worsen.

"Just give him the damn keys."

Reluctantly and with defiance, Mallory slapped the ring of keys into Scott's waiting hand. The young man backed away and out the door.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to his lab to get what I need. Hang on for another few minutes," said Scott hurriedly.

Grissom gave his son a tight nod and watched his son enter Mallory's lab and disappear. The struggling man turned his attention back to his captives when Mallory again spoke.

"Grissom, when Rachel came to me with the boy, I sent them to Kenny so that they would be safe from you. I was going to help you overcome your obsession with drugs. The intent all along was to return your family to you. Kenny had other plans..." Mallory said, ignoring the incredulous look his cousin was giving him.

Jones jumped up from his position on the floor, his fist clenched at his sides. Jones cut Mallory off.

"Grissom, listen to me. You've got to remember your past. Lucas twisted it. I had no choice but to take Rachel and your son in," said Jones desperately.

"Both of you shut up…just shut up," said Grissom in a tight voice. "I..I don't ….just shut up. C'mon Scott, son, hurry up," whispered Grissom more to himself than to the others.

Hurrying out of the lab, Scott appeared with rolls of duct tape. Brushing past Grissom, he quickly worked on Jones first, requiring that Jones sit on the cot. He taped Jones's hands together behind the man back and then taped his feet together, making sure that both arms and legs were tightly bound. With a cock of his head and a look of apology, Scott tore off another piece of tape and gently placed it over Jones's mouth.

Next, Scott turned to Mallory. Pulling Mallory over to a wooden chair, Scott pushed the belligerent man down on the chair and proceeded to secure his arms and legs much the same he had done with Jones, only making sure that he wrapped the tape more tightly than necessary. Scott smiled broadly with every grunt of discomfort that came from Mallory. When he was done, Scott then proceeded to tape the man tightly to the chair. Working rapidly, Scott frisked Mallory and relieved him of the Glock that he had hidden under his lab coat. Tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, Scott roughly checked the bound man for any other weapons that he might have hidden. He took the two-way radio that was hooked to his belt and slipped it into his pants pocket.

"When I get free, I will make sure that you hurt. I'm gonna make...," threatened Mallory in a low voice but was cut off when Scott slapped a piece of duct tape over the man's mouth none too gently. Mallory's gray eyes flashed with anger as the young man gave him s wide grin.

Looking up at Grissom with a smile on his face, Scott was alarmed to see that Grissom was on his knees, holding on to the door jamb to keep from totally collapsing. Scott rushed over to his father and helped him to stand.

"C'mon. You can lie down on the examining table in the lab."

Slamming shut the door to the cell and locking the two bound men in, Scott half-led, half-carried his father into the lab, where Grissom collapsed onto the examining table set in the middle of the room. The trembling had taken over his body which was drenched with sweat. The Beretta clattered harmlessly to the floor, apparently forgotten, as Grissom wrapped his arms about himself in an effort to control the nausea that was also rising within him.

Grissom's son immediately searched through the keys so that he could unlock the medicine cabinet. Lying open on the counter, next to the cabinet, were the detailed notes that Mallory had kept on the substances and dosages he had given his father. Scanning the list of what and when each dose was given, Scott noted that the dosages alternated between hallucinogenics and hypnotics. Glancing back at Grissom, Scott assumed that the dose Grissom must have given himself was a hypnotic or he would not be having such severe symptoms. Searching through the hypodermics laid out for both Sara and Grissom, he selected one of the dosages meant for Sara that he had not watered down. Noting that it was a hallucinogenic dose considerably lower that what been given to Grissom, he brought it over to his shaking father.

Without out warning, Scott plunged the needle into his father's arm. Within minutes, Grissom's breathing evened out and the shaking lessened considerably. He was still perspiring, and Scott realized that Grissom was running a fever. Grissom was awake but not entirely lucid. Groggily, he tried to sit up, but vertigo made the room spin. Sinking back down on the examining table, Grissom glanced up at his son.

"Scott…," rasped Grissom, trying to clear his head, " Wha…what did you give me?"

The young man laid a calming hand on his father's shoulder.

"It's okay. You're stabilized for now. Just rest. I'm going to get Sara for you, but you have to stay here. I won't be gone long and then we can figure things out, okay?" Scott said softly.

"Sara?....yes, Sara…need to see her," Grissom mumbled as he lay back down on the table, closing his eyes.

Scott locked the lab door behind him and left to go to the infirmary. He was sure that Grissom would need some painkillers and antibiotics for his torn up feet. Then he would pick up the clothing he had stashed for Sara and bring her back to Mallory's lab. Now that Mallory was safely tucked away for now, he only had to worry about Mallory's two guards.

****************************************

It was early evening by the time McKeen and company reached the sleepy little town of Goldfield. Sheriff Jason Taylor, a medium-built man with a military style haircut, greeted McKeen and Brass as they entered his office.

"Gentlemen, I trust you had an uneventful drive up here from Vegas," said Taylor as he shook both men's hands with a firm grip. "Bond said that you had a warrant, a search and seizure, for the Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions? Hmmm…that facility has been there for a number of years, at least as long as I have been sheriff, which has been about 15 years. I know Dr. Jones, the head of the clinic. Seems to be a decent enough fellow. Hard to believe that he would be involved in anything illegal. A lot of good work is being done up there. That Dr. Jones has helped a lot of folk. Anyway, most of his patients come from up north. You know, Carson City, Reno, Winnemucca, Elko, etc. You folks in Clark County probably have a number of similar facilities so you probably aren't familiar with his work."

"Sheriff Taylor, nevertheless, we have enough evidence to at least search the property out there. This Dr. Ken Jones happens to be a relative of a convicted felon who escaped from Folsom State Prison about 6 months ago, a Lucas Mallory. We have reason to believe that Mallory may be hiding up there. In addition, we believe that there was a mole in our department who had contact with Mallory and is also hiding out there with him. To complicate matters, Mallory apparently kidnapped one of our CSI's. There's a lot more to the case, but suffice it to say, we would like to apprehend both Mallory and our wayward personnel," said McKeen, getting straight to the point.

"A mole in your department, you say. I can see why you would want to get the bad apple. Just because Jones is related to this Mallory doesn't mean he's mixed up with this man's criminal doings. I'm sure you know that. You fellows must have some solid evidence to implicate some involvement or you wouldn't be here," mused the sheriff. "You have my support, but you need to understand that we are a small county out here. We don't have the resources or the manpower to help you much. Besides myself, I can spare a deputy. Tell me what you would like, and we'll do the best we can."

The limited manpower was fine with McKeen, although he wasn't going to let Brass or Sheriff Taylor know that. The fewer law enforcement involved in this little operation, the more control McKeen would have in making sure things would go as he planned. The under sheriff feigned resignation with the support that Taylor was offering.

"If that's all you can spare, we'll have to live with that," sighed McKeen audibly.

Captain Jim Brass interrupted, "Jeff, we can get reinforcements here in just a few hours, well before dawn. Hell, we could probably get a couple of PD helicopters up here if we needed them."

McKeen turned to Brass, "Captain, remember this is just a search and seizure. We're not even sure if Grissom and Mallory are up there. If they are, we go in there with guns blazing, a lot of innocents could be endangered. It would be different if it weren't a clinic with patients. Besides, even if they are there, I want this as low key as possible. If Grissom is innocent, we still need to protect, not only his reputation, but the department's. It's a miracle that the media hasn't grabbed hold of this thing other than two law enforcement personnel are missing."

Brass nodded, but he would keep an eye on McKeen. He still thought McKeen the best candidate for being the mole in the department. The more Brass thought about it, the more he was convinced that McKeen was responsible for the evidence planted in Grissom's townhouse, and it was McKeen's handpicked officers who allowed Grissom to disappear. Although the status of that part of the case had changed from abduction to a planned escape, Brass was sure that his friend was taken against his will. Brass would play McKeen's game, for now.

"Well, now that that's settled Under Sheriff, when do you want to go in? It's off of Highway 95, several miles north. We'll have to drive on about 10 miles of dusty dirt roads to get there. The road is fairly well- maintained but we obviously won't be going highway speed," said Taylor.

"I'd like to go in at dawn," McKeen said, "We can rest up tonight. If we go in at dawn, there'll be less of a chance that we'll be spotted. I want that element of surprise."

**********************************************

Lopez and Baker had circled the compound numerous times and still had found no sign of Grissom. At a loss to what they should do, they headed back to the quarters that Jones had assigned to them. Baker had tried to radio Mallory several times but was met with only static.

"I guess the boss is a little busy. He's probably in his lab dreaming up a whole new combination of stuff that he can give to Grissom's woman and Grissom, that is if we ever find his sorry ass," commented Baker.

"If Grissom is alive, he's probably hurting real bad for a hit. I'd hate to be in his shoes. In lock-up I saw several guys go cold turkey because they couldn't get any. Not a pretty sight," was Lopez's reply.

"Look, let's get a couple of hours shut-eye. I'm sure that Mallory is either in his lab or asleep himself. Don't see why we should deprive ourselves of some rest. We'll continue our search in a couple of hours and just tell Mallory that we were up all night searching."

"Works for me," said Lopez with a shrug as both men entered their quarters.

*****************************

For the last two hours, Sara paced the room like a caged animal. The effects of the last dose had long worn off, and she couldn't tell if her anxiety was because Scott had promised that he would help her to escape or because of any residual effects of the beginnings of withdrawal. The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that it had been that long ago since she had seen Scott. She had only the somewhat stale peanut butter sandwich and apple. _Something's gone wrong. Scott was anxious to get back to Grissom. Something's gone wrong. Mallory's figured out that Scott was helping Griss. Where the hell is Scott?_

Sara took a deep breath. It was no use getting worked up over something beyond her control. It was just not in her nature to sit and wait for things to happen. Sara continued her pacing, frustration and impatience building within her. The jangle of keys outside her door brought her to an abrupt halt, and she backed away from the door and sat quickly down on the cot.

Scott entered the small room, out of breath, carrying a large bag and a knapsack. Sara stood up with questions in her eyes.

"Scott, what…"

"Don't have time to explain. Here take these clothes. They should fit you, I think. Grissom's here back in the clinic, but we really need to get going before the guards find him. I'll explain everything….just hurry and change. I'll...um...wait outside the door. Just come out when you're ready," said Scott in an urgent tone.

Sara swiftly changed out of the patient garb and slipped on the jeans and T-shirt Scott had brought her. The jeans were a little short and loose, but they would do. Reaching into the bag, she took out boots and socks, put them on, and laced up the boots. When she was ready, she slipped out the door where Grissom's son was waiting patiently for her.

Scott gave her a faint grin. He had guessed right about her size. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of the building and together they crossed the dark compound to the where Grissom was waiting.

When Scott and Sara reached the lab, they found Grissom leaning against the counter near the medicine cabinet studying the notebook that lay open before him. He was having a hard time focusing. He ran his fingers over the same lines of the notes over and over as if this would help him to absorb the information before him.

Hearing the door creak open, Grissom instantly spun around and swung the gun in the direction of the door. Seeing Scott and Sara, he visibly relaxed and gingerly put the gun back down on the counter. His gaze never left Sara as he drank in the sight of her. The last clear memory he had of her was when they were both in the warehouse. That seemed like eons ago. He wanted to step towards her but instead leaned heavily on the counter, needing the support of something solid to remain standing.

"Sara," he whispered, "you're here…"

Sara walked quickly over to Grissom and gently ran her hands over his arms. "Yes…yes, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," she said softly.

Grissom nodded and leaned into her waiting arms, drawing much needed strength from her. Wrapping his arms carefully around her, he shut his eyes as relief flooded through him that she was alive and well. Sara returned his embrace gingerly, unsure of the extent of his injuries. She had taken in his haggard appearance and knew that he was suffering from more than physical injuries.

"Gil, you need to rest. We'll get out of here, but you have to rest first," she whispered softly in his ear.

"Sara…," Grissom started to argue.

Sara pulled back slightly and held her fingers to his lips. Her dark brown eyes sought his and she saw the intense weariness in his face. "No, Gil…just rest. Then we'll figure it all out."

Heavy exhaustion seemed to suddenly want to crush him, and he felt his legs give way. Sara nodded to Scott, and between the two of them, helped Grissom onto the examining table. Grissom closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He was shuddering ever so slightly as he allowed his body to slowly relax. Sara found a sheet and covered him with it, gently stroking his salt and pepper curls.

"We need to dress that nasty cut on his head. He must have gotten that when he was trying to make his way back here from the hideaway. I need to check his feet. When he escaped, he was barefoot. The rocks out there really cut up his feet," Scott said to Sara in a low voice as not to disturb his father.

"Okay, but what do we do about when this dose wears off? You told me what he was going through from the withdrawal. How are we going to wean him off the stuff safely?" asked Sara."Mallory's notes are there. Maybe I can figure out how to detox Grissom without endangering his life."

A couple of hours later, a bleary-eyed Sara slumped dejectedly on the stool she was perched on with Mallory's notes before her. Scott had changed and dressed the bandages on Grissom's feet. They both had been painfully swollen and both soles of his feet continued to seep blood. Scott had put Grissom's broken wrist in a splint and had carefully wrapped it. During his ministrations, Grissom only slightly stirred, the need to sleep obviously was what his body needed the most. Scott now stood next to Sara as they both tried to decipher Mallory's notes.

"I'm not sure where to go from here with this stuff. Mallory was alternating between hallucinogenics and hypnotics. How addictive are the hypnotics? I'm not sure what exactly Mallory was giving him. It seemed that he upped the dosage exponentially once he had his hands on Grissom and then changed the combination of drugs. I'm not a doctor. Any dose we give him would just be a guess. We could be doing more harm than good," muttered Sara.

Scott glanced over at his father. He was starting to stir. When he wakes, the symptoms would start again with a vengeance.

"Scott, Jones is in the next room, right?" Sara asked, an idea forming in her head. Seeing Scott's wary look, she continued, "He told me a couple of times that he didn't agree with what Mallory was doing and that he was going to try to help us get away. That I had to trust him…maybe it's time we should."

A/N: Yes, I know that I had put a CD warning out there, but my muses kept telling me that I was getting ahead of myself- that I had to work out more of the details. It's coming…Another chapter in. Thanks to all who are sticking with me so patiently. I hope the ride will be worth it. Please keep reviewing……becky


	26. Chapter 26

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 26**_

Officer Daniel Pritchard checked his Glock and made sure that it was fully loaded. McKeen had made it clear that under no circumstances would both Sidle and Grissom to come out of this raid alive. His job was to shoot to kill. Pritchard holstered his weapon and donned on his flack jacket. According to McKeen, Mallory also had two armed guards and Mallory and these two guards would also be casualties of this search and seizure.

"You ready?" asked McKeen.

Pritchard gave the under sheriff a nod and picked up the shotgun lying next to his LVPD ball cap.

"Okay, let's load up then. Brass and his two CSI's are waiting for us. Remember, stick close to me."

McKeen led the way out to the patrol car and observed both Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown wearing flack jackets under their CSI vests. Donning on a flack jacket of his own, Brass walked over to McKeen to get the final details of the raid.

Zipping up his own jacket, McKeen gave Brass the low down. "Taylor will lead us in, but we'll be behind him. It'll still be dark when we get to the dirt road. We'll wait until just before dawn so that we won't have to use headlights when we get on the dirt road. Pritchard and I will team together and Taylor with his deputy will partner up. You, Stokes and Brown will back us up."

Brass waved to Nick and Warrick to load up , and then climbed into the front passenger side of the Denali. Nick glanced over at the veteran detective, noting the determined look.

"Okay, what's comin' down, Jim? Something's up. What can we expect?" asked Nick, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I dunno…Something about this feels a little off. This is just more than a search and seizure raid, even with the strong evidence that Mallory and Grissom might be holed up there. There should be more law enforcement here. Just my cop's intuition telling me something's going down , and it's going to be bad. We're back-up to McKeen and Taylor. We'll back McKeen all right. Nicky and Rick, you need to be on your toes. Nicky, you and I are going to keep close tabs on the under sheriff and Pritchard. Rick, you take the sheriff and his deputy. Switch your radios from channel 2 to 6. I want communication between the three of us only, got that?"

Warrick and Nick both acknowledged Brass with a nod as they followed their escort north.

****************************************

Sara ran a light hand over Grissom's forehead and noted the beads of sweat forming along his hairline. He had hardly stirred since he laying down on the examining table. Sara felt along his arms and felt sporadic spasms travel through his limbs. The shuddering was slowly increasing in number and intensity. Though he was not awake, his countenance seemed to show that he was in the midst of a nightmare.

"Scott, ready to go get Jones? Your father is going to come to soon."

Scott grabbed the keys from the counter and headed towards the lab door. Sara took the Glock Scott had taken off of Mallory. They quickly unlocked and opened the door to room next to the lab. Sara stepped into the room and pointed the Glock at Mallory. His eyes widened with fright as Sara slowly cocked the trigger. She lifted her head slightly, gave him a slight smile, and uncocked the weapon.

"Perhaps today is not your day to die," Sara said softly, staring at the man with deadly seriousness.

Mallory slumped back with relief and then lifted his head to observe Scott enter the room with a pair of scissors. Completely ignoring Mallory, Scott stepped around the bound man and approached Jones.

"I'm going to let you go, but you're going to help us find the right dosages for my father in order to best wean him off the poison you and Mallory have been giving him. You understand?" Scott said in a quiet voice.

Ken Jones nodded quickly, and Scott quickly ripped the duct tape off Jones' mouth. The bound man shook his head slightly, worked the tightness out of his jaws, and licked his lips.

"Arthur…I mean Scott…you can trust me. I'll help him…I never wanted this, really. You have to believe me," said Jones earnestly, searching Scott's face.

Scott only nodded a "Yeah, right," and proceeded to slice through the tape that bound Jones' hands and feet. Throwing the tape aside, Jones rubbed his wrists to help restore the circulation to his hands. Scott rubbed the man's ankles in order to do the same thing. Looking up at Scott, Jones gave him a nod and Scott stood up and helped Jones to stand.

"You ready?" asked Scott.

Jones nodded and glanced briefly at Mallory who was straining against his bonds as he glared at Jones.

"What about him? You just going to leave him here?" asked the doctor.

"For now. Right now you have other business to attend to," Scott said, shoving Jones towards the door.

Sara gave Mallory one last look over to make sure that his bonds were secure and then quickly left the room.

**********************************************

The early morning light was just beginning to peek over the desert mountaintops. It was that early morning darkness that spread over everything before the skies started to lighten with the sun. The three law enforcement vehicles were pulled over to the side of Highway 95 at the entrance to Dry Canyon Road. They would have to travel another ten miles of gravelly dirt road to get to their destination.

With flashlights shining on the hood of Sheriff Taylor's SUV, a map of the Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions lay before the law enforcement officers gathered around the truck. McKeen pointed out areas of the map that he wanted each team to cover. Unbeknownst to the others, McKeen knew the layout of the buildings and which building Grissom was being held in which also happened to be next to Mallory's lab. He had received explicit instructions from the leaders of the 5th Street Knights that Mallory was to be taken out. To protect their hidden asset in the police department, that being McKeen, incriminating evidence had be created and planted to implicate Grissom. A case against Grissom would bring into question every case he and his team had investigated.

McKeen directed Brass, Nick Stokes, and Warrick Brown to search the buildings on the opposite side of where he and Pritchard would be investigating. He assigned Taylor and Deputy Hunt to the administration and infirmary. Satisfied that he and Pritchard would have adequate time to accomplish their mission, McKeen proceeded to hand out radio units to each member of the raid.

"We'll be on channel 2. No heroics, gentlemen. The guards and Mallory will certainly be armed. I'm not sure about Grissom's and Sidle's status, but let's be safe and assume that they will also be armed and dangerous," directed the under sheriff.

"Whoa…wait a minute, Jeff…you're just going to assume that Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle are a willing part of this drug ring? You're not going to give them the benefit of the doubt?" asked Brass incredulously.

Turning to Brass and in an angry voice, reprimanded the police captain. "I gave Gil Grissom the benefit of the doubt after he was released from the hospital and look where that got us. Three officers dead. No, he's wanted for questioning and suspicion of murder, drug trafficking, and anything else I can think of. You got that, Captain?"

"Yes, Under Sheriff, I got it all right," said Brass, "I got it loud and clear."

Turning to Nick and Warrick, Brass waved his hand to the Denali and marched away from McKeen. The two senior CSI's trotted back to where their vehicle was parked and got in. McKeen watched the three men retreat to their vehicle with an uneasy feeling that they would be complicating his plans.

"What now, Brass? How do you want this to go down?" asked Warrick once he was settled into his seat.

"We have our separate radio sets, right? We use 'em in case we get separated. We'll start off with the buildings we're assigned, but then we don't waste any time in heading towards McKeen's area."

**********************

Baker and Lopez emerged from their quarters. They had only a few hours of sleep, but nevertheless, felt somewhat refreshed. Baker stretched and yawned widely.

"Man, I could sleep a while longer, but there'll be hell to pay if Mallory catches us not looking for Grissom. The guy's got to be dead by now. He couldn't have made it the ten miles to the highway, especially being barefoot. Any big ideas of where to look?"

"I have no idea. We probably should try to find Mallory and see if he has any suggestions," replied Lopez, as he looked out over the lightening horizon.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Grabbing his partner's arm to get his attention, Lopez pointed out towards the mountains lining the eastern sky. In the distance, a faint trail of dust was being kicked along the road that led up to the clinic.

"Do you see that in the distance, way out there? Is that dust being kicked up? Looks like someone coming this way…why aren't their lights on? It's still a little dark for no headlights."

"I dunno…but I think we should try to get a hold of Mallory. Who would be coming here this time of day? This can't be good."

Baker snatched the radio from his belt and tried to raise Mallory. He was met with only static. Meanwhile the cloud of dust was slowing approaching the complex. Both men took a couple of steps backward and then turned and hurried off towards the building where they thought Mallory might be. They would check Jones's house and the administration building.

*********************************

Grissom woke with a start, momentarily confused by his surroundings. His head felt heavy, and there was a dull pounding behind his eyes. He lifted his head slowly and gradually got himself to a sitting position. He blinked hard and tried to remember where he was. _I'm in a lab. Sara was here…she was here. Scott brought her. They're both gone…they're gone._

The disoriented man slipped carefully off the examining table and set his feet on the cool cement floor. Grissom almost collapsed from the shards of pain shooting up both his legs when he tried to stand. The pain triggered the memories that got him in his present situation.

Grissom leaned heavily against the table and clenched his teeth as he waited for the pain to slowly subside. Taking in slow deep breaths, he managed to straighten himself up and experimentally shuffled his feet in small deliberate steps to the counter where Mallory's notebook lay open. The medicine cabinet had been left open. With shaking hands, he attempted to read the page of notes that lay before him, but the words shifted in and out of focus. Not knowing where Sara and Scott were had him worried. His anxiety level was rising rapidly, his headache was increasing, and the spasms shaking his body were increasing in intensity.

Grissom took in gulps of air in an effort to gain control over his emotions that seemed to be careening out of control. Hearing the lab door swing open, his head jerked up. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was Scott, but then his relief turned to rage. Jones came trailing in behind Scott and then followed in by Sara. Jones's hands were unbound and he was too busy rubbing his wrists, working to get the circulation going in his hands, to notice Grissom. Grissom tried to take a step forward, but it seemed as though his feet were stuck to the floor. He reached across the counter where the Beretta lay and with shaking hands, brought it up and aimed the gun at Jones.

Ken Jones heard the trigger of the Beretta cock back and looked up in alarm, halting in his steps. Sara quickly stepped forward. She had tucked the Glock in the back of her waistband and now she held her hands up and free. She stood in front of Jones, blocking Grissom's view.

"Grissom…Gil…what are you doing? Gil, put the gun down before you hurt someone. Please Gil," Sara said in a low calming voice.

"Sara, why did you let him loose? He…he stole Rachel and Scott from me. Now, he's trying to take you, isn't he? Why are you protecting him?" growled Grissom. "Get out of the way, Sara."

"Gil, it's not like that. He can help you. Gil, you need to put the gun down."

Jealousy and rage coursed through Grissom. Clenching his teeth, Grissom's body sought to fight off the convulsions that were racking his body as he attempted to steady the gun. As Grissom's knees started to buckle, Scott dashed forward and grabbed his father in a bear hug to prevent him from collapsing on the floor. Sara moved quickly and took the Beretta from Grissom's shaking hands and laid it on the counter. Heaving a sigh of relief, Jones rocked slightly back on his heels and watched Scott and Sara maneuver Grissom back onto the examination table.

When they had him sitting on the table, Grissom's arms were still wrapped around his son in an effort to control the spasms. Soft moans were escaping from his lips as the man rocked back and forth. Scott gently, but firmly, pulled his father's arms from around him, and then Sara sidestepped in between them, bringing her hands up holding Grissom's face on either side. She gently rubbed his beard and touched her forehead to his. Grissom's left arm had automatically wrapped itself around his injured ribs and his right hand came down on the table to brace himself on the table. Scott stepped back and turned to Jones. He cocked his head towards Mallory's notebook, indicating that he wanted Jones to look over the notes. Nodding, Jones hurried over and quickly studied the pages laid out before him. Wanting to give Grissom and Sara a little privacy, Scott moved over to where Jones was standing to watch over the doctor.

Meanwhile, Sara was whispering calming words to a distraught Gil Grissom. Grissom had his eyes shut tight but was obviously listening to Sara's calming words as he didn't attempt to move his head away from hers. He was nodding and taking several deep breaths.

Grissom whispered over and over again through clenched teeth, as Sara held his head to hers, "Sara, you're here…can't lose you…can't lose you…can't lose Scott."

Gently caressing his face and beard with her forehead still touching his, Sara was whispering softly in reply, "I'm not leaving, Griss…not ever…you've got me…you've got me…I'm right here…I'm not leaving."

Jones quickly moved to the medicine cabinet and pulled down several vials of clear liquid. Taking a syringe, he partially filled it from one vial and then picked up another. He checked the dosage and said softly to Scott, "This will relieve the worst of the symptoms and still allow him to function. I'll prepare some additional dosages so that he will regain more control with each dose."

Scott gave Jones a grateful nod and glanced over at Grissom. Sara was still talking softly to him. Scott stepped over to the couple, not wanting to interrupt, but knowing the need Grissom had for the medication that Jones had prepared for him.

"Grissom, Father, we have something that will make you feel better," Scott said quietly as he touched his father's arm to get his attention.

Grissom sat up a little straighter and gave a shaky sigh.

"Okay," came the shaky whisper..

Sara took a step back and slowly rolled up his sleeve so that Jones could administer the shot. Grissom gave a shudder when the needle entered his arm.

"Grissom, you should feel a little more like yourself in a minute or two. Things will still be hazy, and things might seem slightly out of kilter, but you'll at least be able control the worst of the symptoms ," said Jones as he withdrew the empty syringe from Grissom's arm.

Sara eyed Grissom critically as he sat with his eyes closed. The shaking was starting to subside noticeably and his breathing gradually evened out. When he opened his eyes, the world was not spinning. The panic that had been rising in him was receding. Grissom tilted his head to stare at Sara, using her as an anchor to get his mental bearings, ignoring the other two men in the room. The cobwebs were fading, his mind working overtime to try to put his thoughts in a logical order.

"Sara...," Grissom said softly, still holding his sore ribs and using his right hand to hold himself upright on the table.

"Hey…sh…sh…just let yourself get your bearings. Then we'll figure out what to do next."

"I know what you can do next Miss Sidle," came the voice from the door.

All heads turned to the man standing at the entrance of the lab, his service weapon pointed at the three people gathered around Grissom.

"The three of you need to back away from Grissom," said McKeen.

Confusion crossed Sara's face and took her hand away from where she had laid it on Grissom's shoulder. With their hands up, Sara, Scott, and Jones backed slowly away from Grissom, who was staring hard at McKeen, clearly trying to understand what was going on.

"Under sheriff, what…why," stammered Grissom.

"At a loss for words, Grissom? You always were one with a quick come back, weren't you? Where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here? I already know Sidle, but who are these two?" said McKeen with a smile on his face.

Grissom shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the under sheriff was pointing a gun at him. Sara was watching McKeen with growing confusion. She had never really liked the man. He was abrupt and unyielding. He was supposed to be one of the good guys. Why was he holding them at bay with a gun?

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," said McKeen when Grissom started to speak. "Let me guess. The young man must be your son. Scott Arthur, isn't it? And you," continued McKeen, pointing his gun at Jones, "must be Dr. Ken Jones, chief administrator of this facility. Well, the only one missing from this little party is your cousin. Don't worry. Lucas will be joining us in a few minutes. Officer Pritchard is releasing him as we speak and then the party can start."

A/N: This chapter was getting way too long and I had to cut it off somewhere. Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me on this story. Your reviews have really spurred me on and encouraged me…so thanks again. becky


	27. Chapter 27

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 27**_

Officer Pritchard and the under sheriff had silently entered the building that McKeen learned from his informant contained Lucas Mallory's lab. Stealthily checking each of the cells in this building, they found most of the cells unlocked. From his informant, McKeen knew which of these rooms was being used as Mallory's lab. As they quickly worked their way down the hall, they heard muffled voices. Edging towards the door which was the lab, the voices became louder and more distinct. McKeen motioned for Pritchard to check the next cell while he listened to the occupants. _Grissom and Sidle! My lucky day…now if Mallory is in there with them, it will be a piece of cake._

Looking a little farther down the hall, he observed Pritchard enter the next cell and then quickly come out again, motioning for the under sheriff to join him. McKeen slipped past the partially open door unnoticed and entered the cell into which Pritchard had disappeared. Bound to a chair sat Lucas Mallory. Holstering his Glock, McKeen stared silently at Mallory for a minute and then walked over and ripped the duct tape off his mouth.

"You must be Lucas Mallory. Nice to finally meet you face to face…Under Sheriff Jeff McKeen, LVPD. Looks as though you've got yourself into a little bit of trouble here," said McKeen in a low voice so as to keep the occupants of the lab from hearing him. "Oh, by the way, you will keep you voice low so that Grissom and company won't hear us. Yes, they are next door and Officer Pritchard will bring you over in a few minutes after I assess the situation."

Lucas Mallory eyed the under sheriff warily.

"You weren't supposed to pick up Grissom for another two weeks. He's not ready. He's at a crossroads right now. I…I have him starting to believe that his addiction is real. I need more time," whispered Mallory trying to ascertain what McKeen's motive was.

"You're out of time, my friend. However, you will tell me what went down…why you're tied up here and where are your guards. I want to know everything and you have only a minute to tell me or the rest of LVPD will be here and put an end to your little game," said McKeen with a hiss.

Mallory shut his eyes and nodded. He relayed to McKeen the events of the few days, Grissom's progress into addiction, and where he thought his mental state might be. He also revealed to the undersheriff about Scott, and "treatment" had just begun for Sidle.

Satisfied that Mallory had told him everything, McKeen prepared to enter the lab.

Turning to Pritchard, he said, "Give me about 3 minutes and then bring Mallory to the lab next door. Make sure that you keep your weapon on him and if he so much as moves or twitches the wrong way, shoot him."

"Mallory, I'm going next door in just a minute. You will keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to speak. If you want to live, you will follow my lead. Do you understand?"

*********************************

"I know what you can do next Miss Sidle," came the voice from the door.

All heads turned to Under Sheriff McKeen standing at the entrance of the lab, his service weapon pointed at the three people gathered around Grissom.

"The three of you need to back away from Grissom," said McKeen.

Confusion crossed Sara's face and took her hand away from where she had laid it on Grissom's shoulder. With their hands up, Sara, Scott, and Jones backed slowly away from Grissom, who was staring hard at McKeen, clearly trying to understand what was going on.

"Under sheriff, what…why," stammered Grissom.

"At a loss for words, Grissom? You always were one with a quick come back, weren't you? Where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here? I already know Sidle, but who are these two?" said McKeen with a smile on his face.

Grissom shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the under sheriff was pointing a gun at him. Sara was watching McKeen with growing confusion. She had never really liked the man. He was abrupt and unyielding, but he was supposed to be one of the good guys. Why was he holding them at bay with a gun?

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," said McKeen when Grissom started to speak. "Let me guess. The young man must be your son. Scott Arthur, isn't it? And you," continued McKeen, pointing his gun at Jones, "must be Dr. Ken Jones, chief administrator of this facility. Well, the only one missing from this little party is your cousin. Don't worry. Lucas will be joining us in a few minutes. Officer Pritchard is releasing him as we speak and then the party can start."

Stepping closer to the counter, McKeen took a quick glance at the roll of syringes that were labeled for Sara.

Pointing the gun at Jones, the under sheriff asked, "What are these? They've got Sidle's name on them. Was this the "therapy- to match her addiction to Grissom's?" asked McKeen.

Looking quickly at Scott and then at McKeen, Jones replied quickly, "Ummm…yes, they were for Sara, but she was able to escape before the regimen could continue. She and Scott were trying to help Grissom. His dependence on the drugs is much deeper than Sara's. His body needs much more of the drugs to maintain. Her physical dependency was just beginning."

"Well, that gives me an idea. Sidle, come here and quickly."

Sara hesitated, in which case, McKeen swung the gun and pointed it at Grissom who was still trying to understand everything that was being said.

"I don't have time to mess around, Sidle. Jones, take those two syringes and inject them into her. Sidle, you resist, Grissom buys a bullet in the head," threatened McKeen.

Grissom's head immediately swung up; the last few words from McKeen penetrating through the confusion.

"No, McKeen. Leave…leave her alone," gasped Grissom as he struggled off the table.

Shifting the gun towards Grissom, the undersheriff cocked his weapon and smiled, "Grissom, you are in no position to tell me what to do."

Then McKeen paused, an idea suddenly forming, "How important is she to you? Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for her? Well, are you?"

Grissom straightened up as best he could and lifted his chin, "Without hesitation."

Looking over at Sara with eyes more clear than she had ever seen, Grissom turned to McKeen. He took a deep breath and whispered so that only McKeen could hear, "I swear to you, McKeen, if anything happens to Sara, I will haunt you from my grave."

McKeen wasn't fazed in the least, "I'll tell you what. How about you take Sidle's doses? She'll easily overdose on two doses, but maybe not for you. Let's give you three of these syringes and see what they'll do to you. Jones seems to think that you have built up quite a resistance."

"Gil, no, you can't do this. Don't do this for me, please," pleaded Sara. She wanted to step forward but was stopped by the gun trained on Grissom.

"Shut up, Sidle or you or maybe Scott here will buy a bullet," said McKeen.

"Better yet, Grissom. Let's have your son here give you your medicine."

"You!" barked McKeen at Scott, "Take three of those needles and administer them to dear old Dad. Do it and do it quickly or I may decide to shoot him instead."

Scott glanced at Sara briefly and then at Grissom. Sara started to step forward, but was halted by McKeen's wave of the gun.

"Don't even think it, Sidle, or both Grissom and his son are dead men. Just stand there like a good girl and I might let Grissom's son live."

"Scott…son…just do it," said Grissom as he felt a slight dizziness creep up on him.

Scott gave McKeen a look of hate and walked over to the counter, carefully choosing three syringes that had been laid out as Sara's next dosages.

Scott stood before his father as Grissom was starting to lose his sense of balance and leaned heavily against the table. Laying two of the syringes on the table, Scott stared deeply into his father's eyes and then down at the syringe he was about to plunge into Grissom's arm.

Looking back at his son, Grissom followed his son's glance down to the syringe, where Scott quickly signed, W . Grissom's glance shot back to his son's face with a slightly puzzled look.

Scott briefly looked at his father and then quickly administered the contents of the needle into his father's arm. Grissom shut his eyes and waited for the familiar burning sensation to travel up his arm and through his body. Except for the sting of the needle, Grissom felt no such sensation and realization hit him about what Scott had tried to communicate to him. _Water. He only gave me saline…but how…_He opened his eyes in surprise, looking at his son to let him know he understood.

Grissom slowly slid down to the floor as Scott administered the second shot. Again there was no burning sensation, but Grissom tilted his head back and chewed on his lip. McKeen watched with satisfaction at what he thought was Grissom's apparent fall into oblivion. Scott hesitated in picking up the third needle, but McKeen nudged him with the gun.

"Quickly give him the third one. We're running out of time here," ordered the under sheriff.

Reluctantly, Scott touched Grissom arm and quickly signed, full dose. I'm sorry

Grissom nodded and shut his eyes as his son administered the contents of the syringe. Fire leaped through his arm and spread throughout his body. He clenched his teeth to keep the brief control that he had. Within seconds, the world was spinning out of control, and he was starting to hallucinate. Voices were echoing and overlapping over one another. Gulping in air, Grissom blindly tried to make his way to his feet as he tried to crawl up the side of the table. Strong hands reached around him as he struggled to stand, and they braced him against the counter.

Collapsing against the counter, Grissom half lay and half stood against the counter. The strong arms holding him prevented him from slipping back down to the floor. He put his head on the smooth surface of the counter for his neck seemed suddenly too weak to support his head and he tried to focus his eyes. His vision was blurring and images were doubling, then tripling. In the distance, he heard laughing. McKeen was laughing. Gulping, Grissom tried to stand up right, but could not find his feet. A low voice was penetrating through the chaos, and he tried to focus on that voice, to center himself.

Scott, after injecting the last needle, immediately dropped it and tried to help Grissom onto the examining table. He grasped his father around his flailing arms and tried to haul him upright. They both ended up crashing against the counter where Grissom hung on for dear life, gasping for every breath. Scott held on to him tight, speaking urgently to him in a low calming voice.

Sara watched in horror as Grissom and Scott flopped against the counter struggling to control Grissom's twitching body. All the while, McKeen grinned and laughed in amusement. Anger surged through Sara, and she reached for the Glock hidden in her waistband. She held the weapon up and took aim.

Glancing over his shoulder at McKeen, Scott saw Sara in the background aim the Glock. The lab door burst open and Mallory stumbled forward, falling onto the floor. Pritchard came in right behind him. The officer spotted Sara with the Glock and lifted his gun.

"Sara, get down!" screamed Scott, as he let go of Grissom and flung himself at Pritchard. Scott tackled the officer and his shot misfired. Instantly McKeen turned his Glock towards Scott and held the barrel of the gun against the back of the young man's head.

"Get off of him now," ordered the undersheriff, his attention on the struggling men on the floor.

The errant bullet missed its mark but hit Sara all the same. The bullet hit her right side, spinning her around, the force flinging her backward into Jones, knocking them both to the floor. The Glock was sent flying from her hand. Mallory scrambled to his feet in an effort to retrieve the gun.

Seeing Mallory move from out of the corner of his eye, McKeen pointed his gun towards Mallory.

"Move an inch closer to that gun, and I'll put a bullet through your head," warned McKeen.

Mallory froze with his hands up. "Okay…okay…just don't shoot," said Mallory.

As chaos erupted around him, Grissom couldn't discern what was real and was hallucination. He heard an explosion, screams, and struggling, but were they real? His head lay on the counter and he blinked his eyes as his vision slowly came into focus. The Beretta lay a few inches from his right hand, covered by Mallory's notes. It had been forgotten by Sara and Scott, and overlooked by McKeen. Making a valiant attempt to gain his sense of reality, Grissom struggled to stand. He slid his hand across the counter and slipped his hand surreptitiously around the gun and was able to tuck it into the waistband of his jeans before collapsing to his knees against the counter. Grissom bent way over with his forehead almost touching his knees as nausea and vertigo overtook his senses.

Pritchard stood up and yanked Scott to his feet. Scott stumbled as Pritchard shoved him forward with all his might. McKeen pulled Grissom up by the back of his collar with his free hand, forcing the drugged man to stand up against the counter.

"Grissom, my friend, how are we doing, heh? The stuff your son gave you was pretty good stuff, wasn't it?"

"Sara…is she…," Grissom slurred as he slumped forward onto the counter as dizziness swept over him.

McKeen took a quick glance at Sara. She was awake but obviously in pain. The wound in her side was bleeding profusely, and Jones was attempting to staunch the flow by applying pressure with a towel.

"Dr. Jones, how is she? How serious is her wound?"

"The bullet just grazed her, but the graze is deep. She's losing a lot of blood. She'll be fine. I just need to get the bleeding to stop. All I have to do is bind the wound until she can be stitched up."

"So she's not going to bleed out? She'll be okay, then. Did you hear that, Grissom?" McKeen relayed to Grissom as he held him up against the counter.

"Yes, she'll be okay," said a relieved Jones, sitting back on his heels.

"That's really too bad, Doc. Looks like I'll have to put another bullet into her," said McKeen as he pointed the Glock at Sara and prepared to pull the trigger.

Through the haze of McKeen's chatter, the under sheriff's last words penetrated Grissom's confused mind. _No! No! I won't let you…_ Grissom pushed away from the counter with all his might and swung his elbow back. His actions caused McKeen to crash against the examination table.

Pulling the Beretta from his waistband, Grissom with shaky hands aimed the weapon at the undersheriff and pulled the trigger.

A/N: The muses wouldn't let me alone until I finished this chapter. Hope you are still with me on this ride. Let me know what you think.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 28**_

Brass, Nick, and Warrick had just finished searching through the buildings at the opposite end of the campus where McKeen and Pritchard had gone. It had taken much longer than Brass had anticipated as these were patient wings. Frightened staff and patients were told to stay where they were and were virtually in a lock-down situation until told otherwise.

"Okay, Rick and Nick, we head over to where McKeen is. According to the map, it looks like we want to head over to those buildings over there."

Scanning over the rest of the campus, Brass spotted movement over by the administration building. Two men dressed in prison guard uniforms were darting from the building and heading towards the buildings in which Brass and company were headed. Signaling Nick and Warrick, Brass and company charged across the campus to intercept them. Sheriff Taylor and his deputy soon emerged and continued their pusuit.

"LVPD, Gentlemen! Halt. Don't make me shoot you…"shouted Brass.

Both Lopez and Baker stopped in their tracks and held up their hands. Quickly Warrick and Nick made it to the men just ahead of Brass. Pushing the men up against the wall of the building before them, Nick quickly frisked both men and confiscating their weapons. Sheriff Taylor quickly took over and cuffed each of the men and turned them around to face Brass. Brass looked each of the men up and down.

"Gentlemen, you have one chance and one chance only. You screw with me, I will personally see that you both get the death penalty, got that?" hissed the police detective.

"Gentlemen, where is Mallory, and where is he holding Grissom and Sidle. Don't you play dumb with me because you **do not** want to piss me off," ordered Brass holding his Glock against Baker's head.

"You won't shoot me," said Baker with a sneer.

"Want to make a bet? You don't think I'll pull this trigger? Don't know that my buddies here will argue with me…seems like the suspect resisted arrest. What do you think, Rick?" said Brass in a calm voice while cocking the trigger.

"You got it, man. Suspect resisted," Warrick said, loud and clear. Baker shut his eyes and gulped.

"Okay, man. I don't know exactly where Mallory is. He hasn't been answering his radio since yesterday. My partner and I were on the way to find him. We thought he might be in his lab," said Baker in a rush, wishing that Brass would move the barrel of his gun away from his head.

"His lab? Okay, buddy, where is this lab? And you still haven't told me anything about Grissom and Sidle. Tell me about them," Brass said impatiently.

"Sidle..uh…she was in that building over there," said Baker, vaguely waving his hand in the direction from which Brass had just come.

"Hey, turn around," said Brass as he grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun him around, "Now, which building exactly."

Baker pointed to the low concrete-like bunker across the compound.

"That's the building Sidle was being kept in? Are you sure?" asked Brass.

Baker gave a single nod. Nick and Warrick looked at Brass with concern. They had just searched that building and did not find Sara. They did note that only one cell in that particular building had been recently used, but its occupant was not there. They had assumed that the patient was in a different part of the clinic receiving treatment.

"Jim, my guess is that if Rick and I were to process the cell in that building, we'd find evidence that that's where Sara was being held," said Nick.

"Right. Okay, buddy, she's not there, so where could she be? What about Grissom?" Brass barked at the man standing before him.

Baker swallowed hard as he looked at the determined police detective. If they got out of this, Mallory would surely have him and Lopez hunted down, and they would die a slow and unnatural death, but at the same time, Brass might very well kill him and Lopez on the spot if he didn't give him the right information. Caught between a hard place and a rock, Baker made his decision.

"Grissom's woman might be in Mallory's lab. Grissom's cell is next to the lab. Mallory…Mallory…he was using his own brand of "drug therapy" on them. Grissom, um…you're not going to like this," stammered Baker.

"I'm already not liking this…keep going," growled an impatient Jim Brass.

"Baker, shut up…Mallory will get…,"Lopez nearly screamed.

Sheriff Taylor shoved Lopez hard against the wall. "Nobody gave you permission to speak."

Lopez clamped his jaws shut, and turned his head away, afraid of what was going to come down upon him and Baker.

"Grissom is…I mean was…um…he was really hurting. He managed to get away from us and…"stammered Baker, who was now not sure which was worse, facing an increasing irate Captain Jim Brass or an insane Lucas Mallory bent on revenge.

"Whoa…whoa…wait a sec… are you telling me you don't know where Grissom is? Explain the hurting bit…he was injured when he came here. You mean from his injuries, right…right?" said Brass who becoming more and more agitated at the idiot standing before him and the increasing worry over his friend.

"I mean, Lopez and I think he's coyote bait right now. He's been gone for more than a day in this desert heat, his ribs and wrist were broken, and Mallory made sure that he was strung out 24/7. He's totally messed up, man. If he's alive, he doesn't know who he is anymore. Mallory has him pretty much totally brainwashed."

Brass took a step away from Baker and rubbed his hand over his face. He would have like nothing more than to beat this punk to a pulp. Taking a deep breath to get his rising anger under control, Brass continued with his interrogation.

"Okay, let's get this straight. As far as you know, Grissom might be dead, and if he isn't, he is strung out and suffering from his injuries. Sidle might be strung out, and she might be in Mallory's lab. Mallory has been MIA since yesterday, but you think he might be at the lab, but you're not sure. Do I have everything straight?" Brass hissed.

Baker gave a quick nod of his head, hoping this was would placate the seething police captain standing before him. Unfortunately for Baker, Brass was just getting started.

"You don't know a whole hell of a lot, do you, you jackass. Why don't you point out to us which building Mallory's lab is in? If Sidle and/or Grissom dies, I will make sure that both you sycophants get the death penalty," Brass snapped.

Baker lifted a shaky finger and pointed to the group of buildings. Just as the man was pointing towards the buildings, all seven men were startled by the sound of a single muffled gunshot. Shoving Baker towards the deputy, Brass ordered the sheriff and deputy to secure the prisoners. Motioning to Warrick and Nick to following him, Brass sped towards the buildings that Baker had indicated.

Another muffled shot rang through the air causing Brass, Nick, and Warrick to pause momentarily, look at one another, and then rocket even faster towards their destination.

They all had their service weapons out preparing themselves for the worst.

*******************************************

Officer Daniel Pritchard watched in horror as Grissom swung around knocking McKeen off balance as McKeen was about to shoot Sidle. Before Pritchard could react, Grissom had reached into his waistband, pulled a 9mm Beretta out and fired it at McKeen. The bullet sent the undersheriff crashing against the examining table. The bullet entered the lower part of th back of McKeen's neck, just above his flack jacket. McKeen turned his head with a look of shock on his face. Grasping his neck, McKeen was aghast at the gushing of blood flowing down his torso.

"You son of a bitch," rasped McKeen as his eyes slowly glazed over. The under sheriff fell to the floor, a pool of blood forming under him.

It took a moment for the scene in front of him to register. Though he felt no particular loyalty towards the dying man, Pritchard knew that he had to finish the business McKeen had started, if only to save his own neck. However, he was also sure that the gunfire was probably heard outside the building. Brass and his men would be here any moment. Pritchard had to salvage the situation before Brass showed up.

Pointing his gun at Grissom, he aimed his pistol and prepared to shoot the man who was now on his knees trying to grasp the situation before him. The cocking of a pistol had Pritchard jerking his attention away from his intended victim to find himself staring down the barrel of a Glock. Lucas Mallory had the Glock that Sara had dropped and was now pointing it Pritchard.

"No, no you don't, Pritchard. Grissom is mine so you can just drop your gun and kick it towards me. Move on over here next to the girl. Take your flack jacket off. I don't think you'll be needing it as much as I will," said Mallory.

Pritchard carefully placed his weapon on the floor before him, shoved the gun towards Mallory and, with his hands up, edged past Grissom and McKeen's body and stood next to Jones who was standing protectively over Sara. Scott now stood next to Jones, his mind trying to process the turn of events that just had occurred.

"Hey, Junior," said Mallory waving the gun at Scott, "hand me his flack jacket and then take his cuffs and handcuff his hands together behind his back. Also duct tape his mouth. I don't want him yelling for help. Do it, and do it now."

Scott stiffly nodded at Mallory, who was training the gun on him and the officer. Taking the flack jacket from Pritchard, he handed it to Mallory. While Scott cuffed the officer, Mallory quickly and carefully slipped on the flack jacket.

"Lucas, what are you planning? It's over. The game is over. Give it up," said Ken Jones, realizing that it was just a matter of time before more law enforcement officers showed up.

Jones didn't know if McKeen had brought with him other officers who would be on the take as McKeen had been, but he wasn't anxious to find out. He just wanted this nightmare to end and to go back to the way things were before his cousin reappeared in his life.

"Kenny, you disappoint me. I thought that of all people you would understand. I'll just have to deal with Grissom without your help," said Mallory as he lifted the Glock and aimed it at his cousin.

"Lu…Lucas, you…you don't mean it. I helped you when you needed it. I just want you to think about what you're doing," pleaded the doctor staring at the gun with huge eyes.

"Pick up Sidle. She and Grissom will be my ticket out of here. You and Junior are going to help me to escape," said Mallory.

"Lucas, she's in no shape to be jostled about. The bleeding has slowed, but it could start again if we do what you're planning. I'll go with you and help you with Grissom, but leave her and Scott. This really is between you and Grissom anyway," said Jones as he tried to negotiate with his cousin.

"Pick her up, Kenny- now. Junior, help dear old Dad up, and do it now," ordered Mallory as he waved the gun between the two men.

Grissom was still struggling to maintain his grasp with reality. He lay crumpled on the floor against the counter. Strong young hands had him up by his armpits, hauling him to his feet. Grissom leaned heavily against the strong young body that was holding him up. His injured left arm was draped around Scott's neck as his right hand dropped the Beretta unnoticed to the floor.

Mallory's attention was divided between Scott assisting his father and with Jones', who was gently picking up an unconscious Sara Sidle. Blood was starting to seep through the makeshift bandage wrapped around her midsection. Jones held her tight in his arms, hoping that the added pressure might stem the flow.

"Okay, listen to me. We're going to walk out slowly. You both will do exactly what I say," Mallory said in a quiet controlled voice.

Scott felt spasms start to thunder through his father's body as Grissom's breathing became increasingly labored. Grissom lifted his head slightly to see Jones step past with Sara in his arms. Blinking to focus and process the sight, he tried to stand on wobbly legs and shake off Scott who was holding him up.

"Sara…Wha…," Grissom swallowed and furled his brow. Bewildered at the chaos, images were swirling around him, floating in and out of focus. Shutting his eyes briefly, Grissom tried to control the vertigo creeping into his sense of balance.

"Grissom, I'm taking you somewhere safe, where everything will make sense," said Mallory as he quickly grabbed his notes laying on the counter and all the prepared syringes that lay in the medicine cabinet and stuffing them in a medical bag sitting near the cabinet. He quickly picked up Pritchard's gun and also stuffed that into the bag.

"I bet you will, but you'll have to go through me first," said Jim Brass as he appeared in the doorway with his Glock aimed directly at Mallory's head.

"Lucas Mallory, drop the gun and the bag. Then you will put your hands up. Nobody else move as my trigger finger is feeling mighty itchy right now."

Wordlessly, Mallory dropped both the gun and medical bag and raised his hands over his head. He stared Brass defiantly and then said in a low voice, "Did you come to save Grissom? It's too late. He's tripping right now, and he's so damaged, he'll never be the man he used to be."

"We'll see about that. Right now, you just need to keep that trap of yours shut," said Brass with all seriousness. Turning to Jones, Brass continued, "Lay her gently on the examining table and then back away. You must be this miscreant's cousin."

"Dr. Ken Jones. I'm the…"

"Oh yeah, the administrator and head honcho. Gotcha," said Brass, "Why don't you just move over there with your cousin and put those hands up."

"You," said Brass with a softer voice, nodding to Scott, "if, I'm not mistaken, are Grissom's son. Scott, is it?"

Scott nodded slowly. He tightened his grip on his father who was starting to sweat profusely and who continued to tremble and gasp.

Grissom whipped his head around to stare in the direction of the familiar voice. He didn't trust his senses to tell him that it was really Brass, who was standing there like an answer to a prayer.

"Jim…wha…how," stammered Grissom, realization dawning. "You came with McKeen. McKeen brought you."

"Yeah, Buddy," said Brass softly, shocked at the wildness in Grissom's eyes and his haggard appearance. Both Sara and Grissom looked like they had been run through the mill. Grissom was definitely tripping, his eyes had an unfocused look about them, and Brass had never seen such a look of desperation about the man.

_Brass came with McKeen…he came with McKeen…he was with McKeen…_channeled through Grissom's head. _No! No! can't be…with McKeen…_Eyeing the unnoticed Beretta laying on the floor near McKeen's lifeless body, Grissom lurched away from Scott and fell to his knees. Grabbing the Beretta, Grissom, with shaking hands pointed the gun at Brass.

A puzzled look crossed the homicide detective's face. "Gil, what's going on? Hey, buddy, it's me. Jim Brass," said the police captain softly. Brass glanced down at McKeen's still body and then back at Grissom.

"Gil, did you shoot McKeen? Did you?"

Grissom glanced at the body lying next to him and then looked back up at Brass.

"I…I… he was going to shoot Sara…I had to," admitted Grissom weakly.

Looking up at Brass, in a stronger voice, Grissom continued, "I won't let you hurt Sara, either. Drop the gun, do it now."

"Gil, I would never hurt Sara."

Mallory watched the scenario between Brass and Grissom unfold. Thinking quickly, Mallory spoke up.

"Grissom, who can you trust? McKeen was the under sheriff. Now your so-called friend just admitted that he came with McKeen. I was trying to get you out of here, but the under sheriff was going to kill Sara and he had you injected full of stuff for an overdose. The effects are getting worse, aren't they?"

Grissom swung the gun between Brass and Mallory, trying desperately to get a handle on the situation. Things were spinning out of control and there was nothing he could do to stop it except to protect the two things he loved the most.

"Shut up, Mallory. Don't talk…just don't talk."

The need to resolve this situation was paramount. With Scott helping him to his feet, Grissom leaned against the counter and pointed towards Brass.

"Scott, take the gun from Captain Brass. Jim, please don't do anything that might hurt my son or I will have to shoot," pleaded Grissom.

Brass held up his hands and turned the Glock around and handed the gun to Scott, saying softly, "Okay, Gil, whatever you say."

"Dr. Jones, please ta..take the cuffs from the under sheriff and off of Captain Brass. Cu…cuff Brass and Mallory," said Grissom in a soft but determined voice.

Jones quickly handcuffed both men, adding duct tape to Mallory's mouth so that he couldn't confuse Grissom any further. At this point, Jones wasn't sure whether Jim Brass was sincerely wanting to help Grissom or whether he was a crony of McKeen's. Jones decided not to take any chances with Brass.

Softly, so that only Brass could hear, Jones whispered, "I don't know whether you are friend or foe to that man. If you're a friend, I'll take care of him and Sara."

Jones continued, "If you are foe, the authorities will be here in a few hours to take care of you."

Brass remained silent and relaxed. He had split up with Nick and Warrick. They were checking out the next building and should be here any moment. The only worry would be if Grissom would think that they, too, were in league with McKeen. At the moment there was nothing he could do but wait. Jones firmly placed a length of duct tape over his mouth too.

"Father, what do you want to do? Lopez and Baker, the guards, are still out there. We don't know who else could have come with these guys," asked Scott, keeping an eye on the three bound men.

"I…we just need to get away from here…need more control of what's going on. Can't tell what's real and what's not," gasped Grissom.

"Grissom, I can give you a countermeasure, like we did before. Do you remember?" asked Jones.

"No…don't want anything else…just want control," Grissom said, shaking his head. "Doc, pick up Sara. Scott, I…I…don't think that I can walk on my own. Grab the medical bag and put Brass's gun in there with the others. We're…we're leaving to somewhere safe."

A/N: Okay, another twist. I'm sorry…the ride continues. Hope this pleases, though. Let me know. The reviews keep me going.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Journey Through the Past – Chapter 29**_

Grissom let out a long sigh and staggered to the table where Sara lay. The bleeding to her side had slowed, and even though she was not conscious, she appeared drawn and in pain. He leaned heavily against the table, afraid to touch her but wanting to hold her tightly at the same time.

Grissom reached out a shaky hand and whispered, "Sara, it's going to be okay. I...I will take care of everything."

A gentle hand touched him on the shoulder and Scott said softly, "If we're going to do this, we need to get going. Ummm…we're going to need to put those boots back on. Your feet are pretty swollen, but I think we can put them back on."

Grissom looked dumbly down at his bandaged feet and now that he noticed them, he felt pain creeping up his legs. Heaving a deep sigh, Grissom allowed Scott to help him sit back down on the floor and slip the boots on his feet. The pressure from the boots helped to dull the sharp pains that were shooting up his legs.

Grissom glanced over at Brass who was sitting next to Mallory. Brass was staring intently at him with worry clearly showing through his eyes. Squeezing his eyes shut, Grissom tried to think about the current situation. A wrong decision could very well cost Sara her life and possibly his son's. He simply had to find a way to keep them safe.

"Scott, I need..um… you to go over to Ca..captain Brass. He should have a cell phone in one of his pockets. Hand me the cell. Also, you will need to take the cuffs off and take the flack jacket off of him and recuff him. Doc…ta..take the jacket and put it on Sara. Son…I also need you to…to take the jacket off Mallory. I…I want you to put it on… Do it all quickly," stammered Grissom.

Brass observed Grissom with a detective's eye and took in the obvious internal struggle his friend was going through. That idiot Baker was right. Grissom was tripping and his hurts were far more serious than just the physical injuries that had not yet healed. In the many years that Jim Brass and Gil Grissom had been friends, Brass could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his friend lose control of himself. Grissom was no where near the man he knew before all this came down. He had never seen Grissom so unsure and afraid of himself.

The tremors were increasing in intensity and Grissom blinked hard to keep his eyes from losing their focus. Scott patted down the police captain, finding not only the sought-after cell phone, but two walkie-talkies. Scott handed the cell phone to Grissom, who promptly slipped into his shirt pocket. The two radios were laid on the floor next to Grissom. The injured man trained the gun on Brass as Scott quickly had the flack jacket off and recuffed Brass. The police captain offered no resistance but continued to stare at Grissom with a worried expression.

When Scott was done with Brass, he turned to Mallory. Grissom cocked the gun, ready to shoot the man if he made any aggressive move towards Scott. Mallory jerked his wrists loose from the handcuffs and did little to help Scott get the flack jacket off. Throwing the jacket aside, Scott quickly recuffed Mallory and shoved him roughly back against Brass.

The young man picked up the jacket and hesitated, "Grissom, Father, you need to be putting this on, not me."

Now that Mallory was recuffed, Grissom lowered the gun and visibly relaxed. "No, Scott, we don't have time to debate. Ju..just put it on, please," Grissom said in a shaky voice. He continued, "I don't know how much longer I can hold on…please, just put it on."

Scott slowly nodded and donned on the jacket. Grissom looked thoughtfully at the lifeless body of the under sheriff.

"Doc, take the flack jacket off McKeen. I…I… don't think he'll be needing it any longer, said Grissom softly with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I know it's a mess. Maybe you can wipe off some of the blood. Then I want you to put it on."

Jones turned and gave Grissom a surprised look. "Don't you want…"

Grissom held up his hand and shook his head slowly to stop the doctor. "You're the only one I can trust to protect Scott." Looking at Scott briefly, Grissom continued, "It's obvious tha…that you love him and that you'll protect him. I hav…haven't been around to be a real father, but this much I can do. You need to promise me that you'll take care of Sara if…if anything happens."

Jones looked over at Sara's still form, looked up an locked eyes with Scott. The doctor turned to Grissom, "Okay…but first, I want to give you something that will stabilize you, okay?"

Grissom gave the doctor a hesitant nod and leaned back and shut his eyes momentarily, trying to gather up enough control and energy to encounter whatever would meet them outside this room.

.

Scott scouted the outside of the building and, in the early morning light, had spotted Nick and Warrick, both carrying their weapons in front of them as they entered the building next to the lab. Quickly, Scott circled around and entered the lab building through the doors opposite of where the senior CSI's would most likely enter. He would need to get his father and the rest out this door if they were to escape from the men who were searching the grounds.

Those few moments gave the medication that Jones had administered to Grissom to work, and when Scott re-entered the lab, Grissom was at least standing on his own two feet, though the trembling was still present and his breathing was only a little less labored.

"Father, the way is clear for now, but it won't be for long. Two men with guns are searching the next building and I'm pretty sure that this building is next."

"Okay, Scott you will need to lead us out and you'll need to carry the medical bag. Ta…Take one of the guns out of the bag and keep it. You might need it. Doc, you will need to carry Sara," Grissom said with a furrowed brow, his concentration still not quite where he needed it.

Walking in an unsteady gait towards Brass, Grissom crouched down and studied Brass's face for a brief moment. "J...Jim, I…I'm sorry. Right now I'm so mixed up and I've got to find my way out of this without Sara and Scott getting killed. Forgive me. This is the only way I can see if you and Jeff were working together. I hope I'm wrong, but I can't take that chance."

Turning to Mallory, he pointed the gun to the man's head. "You're coming with us. I…I…still don't trust you. The worst case scenario is that I can use you so that Sara and Scott can get to safety. Get up on your feet," Grissom said in an unsteady voice.

*********************************************

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown emerged from the building they had been searching. There was no sign that it had been used recently other than for storage. There was no sign of Brass. Nick took out his radio that was his connection with McKeen while Warrick took his out that was his connection to Brass. Both men were met with static when they tried to make contact. They exchanged worried looks and headed to the building in which Brass was supposed to be searching. They had not heard any more shots but still did not know what they would encounter once they entered the next building.

With Nick covering him, Warrick swung the door open and slipped inside. Nick quickly followed his partner in. Swiftly, they covered each other as they worked both sides of the hallway, checking out each of the cells. Only two cells remained. They entered the first one. Apparently there had been a struggle in here. Stepping into the room, they found the bits and pieces of duct tape laying about the floor. It was obvious this room had been occupied recently and the duct tape had been used to subdue or bound someone.

Nick nodded to his partner. They would have to process this room later, but for now they had other priorities. As they left this cell, they heard muffled noises and soft banging coming from the next room. They left the room and with their Glocks held in front of them, Nick pressed his back against the entrance of the cell from where the noise appeared to be coming. He looked back over his shoulder and gave Warrick a quick nod to let him know that he was going to enter the room and for Warrick to cover him.

As Nick sprung low through the doorway of the room, he was momentarily in shock at the sight before him. Slowly he straightened up and scanned the scene before him while waving with one hand for Warrick to enter the room. As they both took in the scene, Nick carefully worked his way into the room, quickly reaching Jim Brass while Warrick checked out McKeen.

"McKeen's dead. Looks like he took one in the neck and bled out. Jim, how did this happen?," said Warrick.

Nick carefully worked the tape off of the captain's mouth. Noticing blood on the floor near Brass, Nick gave him a quick look over. He was relieved to see that Brass had not suffered any obvious injuries.

"Jim, you okay? What the hell happened in here? Whose blood is this? This looks like someone lost a lot of blood," asked Nick, as he quickly unlocked the handcuffs from the captain's wrists.

"Long story, Nick. Keep Pritchard cuffed. The blood belongs to Sara. Grissom apparently shot McKeen to keep him from killing Sara," said Brass as he rubbed his wrists.

"Grissom? Sara? Where are they then? If that blood is Sara's…" asked Warrick as he looked around.

"I'll fill you guys in on our way out the door. Either of you guys packing an extra?" sighed Brass.

Warrick nodded and handed Brass a 9mm handgun from a holster concealed underneath his vest.

"You want to just leave Pritchard here, Jim?" asked Nick looking down at the handcuffed man.

Brass looked hard at the officer, bent down so that his face was inches from Pritchard's and said softly, "Pritchard, I don't have proof now, but I'm pretty sure that McKeen was the mole in the department and that you were one of his minions. Since I feel so strongly about that, I'm going to keep you just like you are. If I'm wrong, then I will take the consequences for my actions. Meanwhile, you will have time to think about what you're going to tell me once we get this all resolved and we have Grissom and Sidle safe. If they don't survive, I will make sure that you are charged for their deaths."

Brass turned to the two senior CSI's and stood up. "Grissom's in a bad way. He's still nursing the original injuries from the warehouse. In fact, it looks like they haven't been allowed to heal much. In addition to that, what Baker told us appears to be true. He's tripping and he's not sure which side of the law he is on right now. He's armed, but I don't think that he's dangerous. He's looking for a safe place for Sara and his son. As for Sara, she was shot. Jones treated her, but she was unconscious. Grissom had Jones carry her, but I don't think she is in any immediate danger of bleeding out, although she will need medical attention soon."

"His son? His son is alive, then?" asked Nick incredulously.

"Yeah Nicky, he is. The doctor and Mallory are with him. Mallory was handcuffed, but Grissom made sure that his hands were in front instead of the back. I guess they're planning to do some roughing out in the desert and Mallory is going to need his hands in front to maintain balance. I'm not quite sure why Grissom took Mallory with him except maybe he thinks he can use Mallory as a bargaining chip in order to get away from the law."

"Wait a sec. That doesn't make any sense," said Nick with a puzzled look on his face.

"It does in a way make sense if you think that the law is after you too and the law would like nothing better than to have Mallory in order to get the connections he might have to the Knights. Right now Grissom doesn't know who he can trust. Apparently, McKeen had Gil injected with enough drugs to cause an overdose. I don't think he was given enough or he'd been already dead. As for Pritchard, he was one of McKeen's soldiers," Brass said softly.

The radio on Nick's belt crackled, and Sheriff Taylor's distinctive voice could be heard.

"Team 3, what is your status?"

"Team 2, this is Team 3. We have an officer down. One possible suspect secured. We are in pursuit of…" Nick hesitated and looked at Brass. He didn't consider Grissom a suspect.

"Say again, Team 2, you are in pursuit of?" came the voice of the sheriff.

Taking the radio from Nick, Brass replied to the sheriff, "Team 2, call for back up. The situation is fluid. We are still searching for Grissom and Sidle. Right now, Grissom is extremely disoriented and Sidle is injured. He is armed, but he is not dangerous, I repeat, he is not dangerous. I believe he will not fire unless fired upon. Order your men not to fire. Again, it is imperative that your men do not fire. With them are Jones, Mallory, and Grissom's son, Scott. Over."

"Copy that…already called for back up when we heard gunfire. Also ordered a paramedic unit. ETA on the back is ten minutes. We have deputies from Nye County backing us up. Over."

"Team 2, we are searching southeast of your position. Suggest you wait for back up and then start searching the surrounding desert," reported Brass.

Brass glanced at both Nick and Warrick. "Just so that you know, Grissom has my cell and my radio. He was with it enough to think to grab both items. He very well could be monitoring the channel we've been using. How he's taking what he's hearing is anyone's guess," said Brass as he led them outside the building to find their wayward friend.

***************************************

The hot Nevada sun was just peeking over the mountains that were located just east of the complex. It promised to be a day that reminded one of being in a blast furnace. Scott led the group through the gardens and to the edge of the grounds where he and Grissom had first escaped. Finding the hidden path through the creosote brushes, Scott quickly led the escapees down the steep slope. The going was slow. Jones half slid down the precipice while still holding Sara tightly against him. Mallory followed closely behind with Grissom bringing up the rear.

Scott set the medical bag down and helped the doctor lay Sara down on a sandy patch while the doctor caught his breath. Mallory scanned the surrounding desolation, trying to discern where the younger Grissom might be leading them. Grissom fell to his knees next to Sara and, after handing the gun to Scott so that he could keep an eye on Mallory, reached for her hand.

"Sit down right over there and don't move," Scott commanded.

"My, my, aren't you the little tyrant," sneered Mallory.

"Lucas, I wouldn't tick Scott off. He does have a temper you haven't seen yet. He just keeps it under great control," Jones said softly to his cousin.

"Scott," said Grissom softly, getting his son's attention. "I…I want you to take the doc and Sara to the mine shaft that you took me to. Stay there until I can get back to you."

"What are you planning to do? I'm not leaving you alone with_ him_," Scott countered.

The precarious control that Grissom had been able to develop with the help from Jones' injection was still in place, but Grissom did not know for how long. He had to act before the slight tremors picked up in intensity.

"Mallory and I are going to lead the search away from the ravine where the mine shaft is. It… it will buy some time to…to figure out what exactly is going on. You and Sara will be safe there and Jones can take care of Sara."

"You won't go far in your condition and on foot, Grissom," piped in Jones.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Scott can take you and Sara to the mine shaft. Lucas and I can lead them away. I can take the clinic jeep and lead them to the western hills and then circle back. They're after Lucas as much as they are after you," suggested Jones.

Grissom shook his head. N…no. That won't work. Sara needs more medical attention than Scott or I can give her. She needs your expertise, doctor. Her safety and Scott's are my priority. Besides do you know where Scott is taking us?"

"Not exactly. I have a vague idea."

"Doc, please. Just do this. I don't want to argue. I…I can handle Mallory, especially if we can lead them away in a vehicle. When I circle back, I think I can find the ravine."

"Grissom, look at yourself. You'll never make it to where the jeep is by yourself, let alone trying to keep an eye on Lucas. My cousin will take advantage of the situation the first chance he gets," Jones said.

Mallory glared at his cousin with a look of betrayal. The duct tape had been removed from his mouth and he took the opportunity to tell his cousin his thoughts.

"Well, the truth comes out now, Kenny. You son of a bitch…I will make sure that you die a slow and painful death…one more agonizing and painful than…"

Mallory stopped when he realized that he had just destroyed what, if any, trust he might have been able to build with Grissom.

Anxiety was beginning to build inside him and Grissom fought to keep it down. Taking a deep breath, Grissom whispered just loud enough for Jones to hear, "I'll manage. I don't have a choice. J…just point me in the general direction where the jeep is."

A/N: Really we are sort of close to the end. Let me know of what you think. Your reviews have been terrific. becky


	30. Chapter 30

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 30**_

As they emerged from the building, Brass and the two senior CSI's spread out and made their way towards the gardens. Scanning the area, they saw Sheriff Taylor approaching them from the direction where their vehicles were parked. His deputy was not with him.

"Captain Brass, you said there was an officer down? Where's McKeen? My deputy is guarding the two men we have in custody. Do we have another prisoner for him to guard?" asked the sheriff.

"McKeen is dead…shot through the neck. Pritchard, for the time being, is cuffed and contained in what seems to be Lucas Mallory's lab. He and the under sheriff apparently have been on the take. I suspect that whoever was pulling their strings wanted them to take care of Grissom, Sidle, and Mallory. It appears that Grissom shot the under sheriff, but the circumstances are unclear. I'm taking charge of this operation," reported Brass.

"The under sheriff is dead and you have Pritchard, one of your own guys, in custody? There'll be hell to pay in arresting a fellow officer on just suspicions. This is not making much sense. Warrant or no warrant, a murder has been committed in my county and you have no jurisdiction here. I have back up coming and I will not be putting my men in danger here. It appears that we have a perpetrator who is armed and dangerous," said Taylor.

"Sheriff, the man we're looking for is Dr. Gil Grissom. He's the graveyard supervisor for CSI in Vegas. He is a prominent member of the law enforcement community in Las Vegas. The escaped convict we are searching for is Lucas Mallory. We don't have time to go into all the details, but we believe that Mallory has used hypnotics and hallucinogens such as ecstasy in an attempt to destroy Grissom's mind and reputation. Grissom is on one helluva acid trip right now, and, from what I can tell, he has developed a physical addiction to what Mallory has been giving him. He's out there in a paranoid state of mind, but I know the man well enough that he won't shoot unless provoked," said Brass forcefully.

"He shot a fellow law enforcement officer, Brass!"

"Look, there isn't time to argue about this. We need to spread out and find him. Scott, Grissom's son, Jones, and Sidle are with him. Sidle is injured, and, no, he didn't shoot her. Right now, I think his priority is to protect his son and Sidle. I guess from that stand point, yes, he is dangerous."

"Captain Brass, I understand your concern for your friend, but there are others to consider here. Remember, this is a treatment facility. The patients and staff are under lockdown and so are relatively safe for now. What if Grissom breaks into one of the buildings and perceives a threat. Let's not even think about the patients' doctor being MIA and the patients' care is being disrupted by the lockdown. I'm thinking of the safety of the civilians here and of the law enforcement officers on the way here."

"All right I see your point," snapped Brass, "but no one fires unless given the order."

Reluctantly the sheriff nodded his head and turned his head to the sound of sirens in the distance.

"C'mon. Looks like help is on the way," said Brass quietly. The four men hurried down to the road to greet their back ups and to coordinate a search perimeter. Meanwhile, Warrick Brown hit speed-dial on his phone.

*********************************

Catherine Willows nervously paced back and forth the length of Grissom's office. Brass had phoned her a few hours before to let her know that McKeen had arranged a surprise search and seizure raid at the Nevada Center for Addictions. They were to raid the small isolated complex just before dawn. Catherine checked her watch. It was a couple of hours after sunrise, and she was anxious to hear from Brass.

Greg came into the office to let her know that he had just wrapped up the B and E case that she had given him the night before and to find out if there was any news on Grissom and Sara.

"No, Greg, I haven't heard anything. I'm expecting to hear from Brass or the guys any minute now," said Catherine in an exasperated tone. "If it was a dead end, we should have heard by now. The only conclusion is that they found Grissom, Mallory, and/or Sara and there have been complications. I have half a mind to run up there myself. Just sitting here is driving me crazy!"

As if her words had been heard, Catherine's cell phone chirped. Catherine quickly grabbed it off her belt and checked the ID- Brown.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, ready to give Warrick a piece of her mind for keeping them in the dark for so long.

"Hey…" Catherine said into the phone.

"Cath…Listen. We don't have a lot of time. We found Grissom, Sara, and Mallory, but…I don't know exactly how to explain this. McKeen is dead. Griss apparently shot him. Sara is injured. Right now, Brass wants you and Greg to come up here with a search and rescue helicopter. Gris is on the run and we've got to find him before the situation gets any worse," Warrick said, the urgency apparent in his voice.

"Whoa…wait a sec, Rick…You're going too fast. Slow down. McKeen's dead, and Grissom shot him? Grissom is on the run. From whom? You're not making any sense."

"Look, man, just get a search and rescue helicopter up here. We're going to need all the help we can get. The situation is fluid. Griss isn't himself. He doesn't know who to trust. He even had Brass handcuffed and bound. Gris is hallucinating and he believes that Brass and McKeen are out to kill him, Sara, and Scott. Look, just get here as soon as you can. Let us know when your ETA is. See you in a little while."

"Wait, Rick…Rick," shouted Catherine, but the connection was already broken.

Turning to Greg, Catherine explained what she understood from her brief conversation with Warrick. With every word that Catherine uttered, Greg became more confused.

"All I know Greg, is that we need to get up there. Grissom and Sara are in trouble and it doesn't sound good. Get our kits together and make sure your service weapon is loaded and ready," said Catherine as she headed out the door in search of Conrad Ecklie, the assistant director, to get permission to order a helicopter.

Catherine returned a few minutes later, and helped Greg with the equipment they anticipated they would need in a remote location. As she was doing a last minute check on her kit, her phone chirped again. Checking the ID, she quickly opened the phone.

"Hey, Ji…," as Catherine attempted to finish her greeting she was interrupted by a strange, weak sounding Gil Grissom.

"Catherine, it's me, Gil," a shaky voice came over the speaker. There was a long pause and Catherine checked her phone to make sure that she had not lost the connection.

"Gil…I can hardly hear you. Where are you? Gil…talk to me. We've all been worried about you. You're on Brass's phone. Where's Jim?" said Catherine. She signaled to Greg that she wanted him to get Archie in the AV lab to try and track down where the signal was coming from.

Greg nodded and sprinted out the room.

"Cath…I don't know what to do, who to trust. I found him, Cath. He's alive."

"Gil, I don't understand. Who's alive? Who did you find?" asked Catherine trying to stall for time.

"My son…I found my son, Scott. He's alive. He knows who I am. Cath, he doesn't hate me for abandoning him or Rachel. Catherine…" Grissom seemed as if he were gasping for breath.

"Gil, that's great. Sara…is Sara with you? Gil, are you still there?" Catherine said when she was met with more silence.

"Gil...are you with me?. What's happening? Tell me what's happening. You need help. Tell me how I can help you," said Catherine in a steady voice so that he could draw strength from her.

"I…I have to protect them, not like before. I failed them before. I have a chance to do it right. I have to keep Scott and Sara safe. I…I had to shoot McKeen. He wanted to kill Sara. Br…Brass was with McKeen. They've come to take me and my family. Cath, Sara was shot. Sh…she needs medical attention. I…I have Mallory with me. I'm going to lead them away from Scott and Sara, but Sara needs more help than Jones can give her. Cath,…help me to get them away from here."

"Okay Gil, I will. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it or make sure it gets done. Gil, just tell me."

"I…I…need to take them away from here. Yeah, take them away Cath," came the desperate whisper.

"Gil, I'm on the way up there. I'll come by chopper. Greg and I are coming up there to get you, Sara, and Scott, okay?"

"Okay," Grissom whispered.

"Grissom, hold together until I can get to you. Keep the phone on so that I can contact you, okay? Gil? Grissom?" Catherine checked her phone, but the connection was broken.

Catherine entered the AV lab where Greg and Archie was attempting to triangulate the signal from Brass's phone to the nearest tower.

"Archie, any luck? Are you able to triangulate Grissom's position? Is he on the move or is he stationary? We should let Warrick or Nick know what his precise location is asap," said Catherine.

"Yeah, I've got it. I'm transmitting the coordinates now and will update them as Grissom moves."

Catherine tapped Greg on the shoulder that they needed to get going. Grabbing her kit and with Greg in tow, they both headed towards the police department helipad to board the waiting chopper.

Flipping open her phone, she hit speed dial and waited for Warrick to answer. Catherine quickly related to the senior CSI her brief conversation with Grissom.

"Warrick, I don't think it would be a good idea for anyone to approach him until Greg and I get there. If he sees you with Brass, it might get him to think that you and Nick are part of this conspiracy that he has fashioned. He's trusting me to carry Sara and Scott out of there. Our ETA will be approximately 45 minutes to an hour."

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'll relay everything to Brass. We'll stay back and let him run. As long as Archie can track him using Brass's cell, everything should be okay."

************************************************

Grissom slowly stood up and waited for the dizziness to pass. Turning to Scott and Jones, Grissom softly said to the two men," I have an idea, but I have to use Brass's phone. I'll be back in a minute. I won't go far."

Grissom walked along the path away from his son, and hit speed-dial. The tremors were increasing ever so slightly. He swallowed hard as he waited for Catherine to pick up. He knew he could trust her. Their relationship was deeper than anyone realized though not in a romantic way. They knew each other too well, and Grissom knew that Catherine would do everything in her power to protect his son and Sara. He didn't want to involve Catherine, but she needed to know about Brass and McKeen.

Grissom quickly cut off her greeting. Drawing a shaky breath, he identified himself, "Catherine, it's me, Gil."

Grissom held the phone tightly and shut his eyes as he tried to focus his attention on Catherine's voice. His mind was swirling with wild images and he was trying to keep them at bay. He was hovering between what was real and what was hallucination. With quiet desperation, he relayed to Catherine everything he thought was happening. Catherine's strong voice reached him like a beacon and he reached for it. She was coming with help. He wouldn't have to do this alone; she would help him. He sighed deeply with relief and closed the phone.

Stumbling his way back, Grissom made his way back to Scott and the others. He leaned against a boulder, holding his side, trying to control his breathing and to support his aching ribs. Jones walked over and touched Grissom lightly across his forehead.

"Grissom, you're burning up, and it's not because it's getting hot out here. You'll never make to the other side of the compound where the jeep is."

Grissom, using his sheer strength of will, straightened up and tried to keep his breathing under control.

Locking eyes with Jones, Grissom said with determination, "Help is on the way. Scott, take this cell phone. Don't turn it off. If it rings, only answer it if the ID reads WILLOWS. Catherine Willows is a friend of mine. Sh…she is going to take care of you and Sara."

Grissom handed Scott the cell and then directed Jones and Scott, "Head towards the mining shaft. There will be a search and rescue helicopter here with…within an hour or two. Scott, I doubt that you will get to the shaft before the copter gets here, but if you do, you'll need to stay outside the shaft in order for Catherine to find you."

Scott studied his father for a moment and then asked, "What about you? You can't possibly think that you'll be able to get away with **that?**"

Scott pointed the gun at Mallory, who winced as if the young man was about to pull the trigger.

"Scott, this is the only way. Just do what I say. It'll be okay, I promise," pleaded Grissom quietly.

Jones stepped up behind Scott and gently touched him on the shoulder. "C'mon. We've got to get Sara out of this heat."

Scott attempted to hand the gun back to Grissom, but his father waved him off, and, instead, reached into the medical bag and retrieved one of the other Glocks. Tucking the firearm into his own waistband, he stepped up to his son and wrapped his arms around him.

Grissom squeezed his eyes shut and whispered fiercely into his son's ear, "I'm not abandoning you. I swear it. I…I just found you. I will find you when this is over. Promise me that you'll stay safe. Promise me that you'll look after Sara for me."

Slowly pulling away from Grissom, Scott nodded his head slowly and backed away, picking up the medical bag and then assisting Jones as he picked Sara up. Grissom pulled the Glock out and pointed it at Mallory while he watched Scott lead Jones around the base of the cliff.

"Ge…get up. We need to get to that jeep," Grissom said in a hoarse whisper.

Mallory eyed the man standing a few feet from him. Serious thoughts of rushing the man and wrestling the gun from him ran through his head until Grissom cocked the trigger.

"Don't make me shoot you," said Grissom as he turned his head and looked down at the handcuffed man.

Slowly and deliberately, Mallory got to his feet. "Grissom, it's just you and me now. You must realize that we need each other right now."

Lucas Mallory realized what a precarious position he was in. He could no longer trust or manipulate his cousin to do his bidding. The leaders of the 5th Street Knights obviously wanted him dead which was made evident when McKeen appeared on the scene. The organization had decided that he had outlived his usefulness because of his obsession with revenge against Grissom. At first, they had gone along with his little plan to make it look like Grissom was the mole and leading any suspicion away from the under sheriff. Something had changed the minds of the 5th Street Knights and so it looked as though both he and Grissom were targets. However, Grissom had the gun and clearly knew that he, Mallory, did not have Grissom's best interests in mind.

Of the small group of escapees who left the lab, Mallory was the only one who knew for sure that Brass and the accompanying law enforcement officers were there to return him to prison. Sara would probably know who to trust, but she was clearly shocked by McKeen's actions. Should Sara regain consciousness, she might be able to convince Jones and Scott to surrender to the law enforcement officers searching the complex. At any rate, his only chance of escape was to throw his lot in with Grissom until they could get away from the men hunting for the both of them. Then he would take care of his nemesis.

"You're going to need me to drive the jeep. I want to get away from them as much as you do. We're going to have to trust each other, at least for a little while," reasoned Mallory.

Grissom sighed deeply. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"C'mon. We've got to get going. Jones said the jeep was on the opposite side of the compound."

Grissom shakily waved the gun vaguely in the direction opposite of the way Scott and Jones had taken. Mallory started down the rocky path with Grissom stumbling closely behind.

************************

Sara slowly became aware of a gentle rocking motion. Pain was searing her side, and she moaned softly. Sara turned her head into the firm shoulder of the man who held her to block the bright sunlight from her face.

"Scott, she's coming to. We need to find some shade so that I can check on her," said Jones in a low urgent voice.

The young man turned around and noticed Sara's stirring. He quickly scanned the area along the cliff base to find a place whee Jones could lay Sara down that would keep them hidden from prying eyes above. Waving his arm, Scott hurried down the path and found a slight overhang that had a small area where the doctor could lay Sara down.

Gently laying the semi-conscious woman down, Jones checked her vitals and found them to be weak but stable. Her eyelids fluttered as she opened her eyes to see a relieved Dr. Ken Jones staring down at her.

"Wha..what happened?" she slurred, trying to orient herself. Memories came flooding back to her, and Sara opened her eyes wide as she tried to sit up. "Grissom! Griss…"

Jones held her gently down and gave her a half smile. "Easy, Sara. You had us worried. You need to take it easy. You've been shot, but I think that you'll be okay," said the doctor in a quiet voice.

Sara looked around her and seeing both Scott and Jones, looked back and Jones and asked, "Where's Gil? What's…"

"Sara, one thing at a time. Grissom is…Grissom is going to get help for us. There's too much to explain, but friends are coming to take you, us, away from here. He's okay. Right now, since you are awake, I want to give you something for the pain. It won't make you sleepy. It'll just ease the pain," said Jones, trying to keep his patient calm.

"No, Gil's not okay. You're just telling me that so that I won't be upset. Where is he? The last I remember he was tripping, out of control. He was falling apart, so Doctor, tell me what's going," gasped Sara as she fought the pain in her side.

Scott stepped up and crouched down next to Sara. "Sara, McKeen's officer shot you, and McKeen was going to finish you off, but…Father shot and killed him before he could shoot you again. After that, another man came in and apparently he came with McKeen. Anyway, we were able to tie the other man up and escape. There are others searching for us. Father used the other man's cell phone and help is on the way to take us away by chopper," Scott in one breath.

"Griss shot McKeen? He killed him?" Sara whispered as she leaned back to allow everything that Scott had just said to sink in. Jones took this moment to administer an anesthetic which would numb the pain in her side. Then she looked up at the men before her with questions in her eyes.

"I was able to give him something to counter what McKeen forced into him. It's given him a measure of stability," said Jones, but he didn't add _but it won't last long._

"What help is coming? Gris is meeting up with us, right?" asked Sara softly.

"A Catherine Willows. He said that she was coming to pick us up with a search and rescue helicopter from Vegas. It should be here soon. He didn't want the men searching for him and Mallory anywhere near the helicopter so I think that they're headed in the opposite direction from where we are. I guess this Catherine is using the signal from this phone to get our position," said Scott showing her the cell.

Sara took the phone and flipped it open. She looked up even more puzzled. "This is Jim Brass's phone. Was Jim Brass the other man who came with McKeen?" asked Sara incredulously.

Jones nodded, "I think so. Grissom called him, Jim."

Sara shook her head, bewildered. "Jim Brass is as honest as the day is long. He may have come up here with McKeen, but it was because he honestly thought he would be able to find us and Mallory- to arrest Mallory."

"So what do we do? Go back to the clinic and turn ourselves in to those men?" asked Scott not quite believing that the men who were searching for them would be meaning them no harm.

Even with the medication Jones had given her, pain was still fogging her thinking and Sara shook her head. "I…I think that we wait to hear from Catherine. I'm sure that she has a handle on the situation. Do you think we'll be okay to hide here for a while?"

Before either man could answer, the faint sound of sirens echoed through the desert air.

TBC

A/N: Another chapter posted. For those who have faithfully stuck with this story, thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I should be wrapping this story up soon. becky


	31. Chapter 31

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 31**_

Lucas Mallory slowly climbed up the gentle slope that led up to the western edge of the compound, and when he reached the top, turned and waited for the man behind him to struggle up the hill. Holding out his hand to assist Grissom up the rest of the way, Mallory noted that the gasping man was perspiring profusely and was starting to shake uncontrollably. Being careful not to grab onto Grissom's swollen left wrist, Mallory grasped on to his left forearm and pulled the man up the rest of the way.

Grissom bent over and rested his hands on his aching knees trying to catch his breath. Mallory eyed the Glock in Grissom's right hand but made no attempt to take the weapon from the injured man. Looking up, Grissom noticed Mallory staring at him as if sizing him up. Taking in a deep breath, Grissom straightened up and pointed the gun towards the northern edge of the building they were standing behind.

According to Jones, the jeep was parked just around the corner. Gesturing for Mallory to proceed in that direction, Grissom staggered forward with the Glock still pointed at Mallory's back. Both men stopped suddenly in their tracks when they heard the sound of sirens approaching in the distance.

"Hurry," growled Grissom, "we're almost there. C'mon."

Grissom urgently scanned the area hoping to find guards or deputies searching for the escapees. Seeing several men gathered near the entrance of the complex, Grissom pushed his captive towards the jeep.

"Get in. You…you're driving," stammered Grissom as he handed Mallory the keys to the handcuffs so that he could take them off. Grissom opened the passenger-side door and slid into the seat, fastening the seatbelt. Mallory climbed into the driver's seat and Grissom handed him the keys he had gotten from Jones before they parted company.

"Hand me the keys to the handcuffs. Put one of the cuffs on your right wrist," rasped Grissom in a low shaky voice.

"Grissom, you can't be serious…"asked Mallory incredulously as he handed Grissom the keys and snapped the cuff onto his wrist.

"Very serious. N…now lock the other cuff onto the steering wheel. Just hurry up. We don't have much time," Grissom said tightly.

Mallory reluctantly clipped the handcuff onto the steering wheel. Grissom pointed to the jeep keys that Mallory had laid in his lap and indicated that Mallory should start the engine. Inserting the key into the ignition, Mallory put the vehicle into reverse with the intent of heading towards the western hills away from the men gathered at the entrance. Grissom pointed the gun.

"We're not taking that road. Head towards the entrance of the complex. You'll go where I tell you to go, you understand?" said Grissom shakily.

"Grissom, that's where the guys who want to kill us are! I'm not taking us over there. This road will take us away from them, and we'll be able to make a clean getaway," exclaimed Mallory as he continued to move the jeep towards the western road leading away from the complex.

Grissom raised the gun and with a shaky right hand, pressed the gun against the side of Mallory's head.

"Turn us around now. I want them to see us, so turn this damn jeep around," Grissom said in a shaky voice.

Mallory glanced at the determined man sitting next to him. Grissom's eyes had a slightly unfocused look to them and the tremors were increasing. Rolling his eyes, Mallory slowly turned the jeep back towards the entrance as Grissom continued to hold the Glock against his head.

"Okay, now what? Where do you want us to go once they see us?" asked Mallory keeping Grissom in his periphery vision.

"Just keep driving and when I tell you to turn, turn," said Grissom in a tight voice.

Grissom eased the weapon back but kept the gun pointed at Mallory while staring out the front of the jeep. An excruciating pounding had begun in his head, and it seemed that Mallory was intent on hitting every pothole and rock, sending shards of pain rocketing through his skull. Swallowing the bile that was building in the back of his throat, Grissom pointed to the left of where the group of men in uniform was standing.

"You'll make a left onto that dirt road when we're close enough for them to see us. You're going to make a wide turn onto that road and high tail it out of here," Grissom said through clenched teeth.

" Okay, and then what, Grissom?"

Mallory wasn't liking this idea at all. This wasn't his idea of getting away until he realized that Grissom was a man with a purpose. Turning his head incredulously at the man beside him, Mallory exclaimed, "You want them all to come after us. This isn't about us getting away from them. This is about that bitch and your damn kid. If you think I'm going to sacrifice myself for them, you're totally out of your mind!"

Grissom lolled his head back to look at the man driving the jeep. Cocking the gun, Grissom tried to focus his eyes on the driver, giving Mallory a slow grin, "No, this was never about me getting away, but keeping my son and Sara safe. With your help, I will at least accomplish that. Now, drive."

***************************

Jim Brass looked down the road they had come from earlier to see three deputy sheriff patrol cars approaching with lights flashing and their sirens wailing. Warrick had just informed him that Catherine and Greg were on their way up in a search and rescue helicopter. Brass quickly took charge as the reinforcements emerged from their vehicles outfitted in Kevlar flak jackets and shotguns. Cringing at the firepower that was being displayed, Brass emphasized that the use of the firearms would be under strict orders. No one was supposed to fire unless they were fired upon.

As the law enforcement officers gathered to get their orders and the search perimeter, a plume of dust rose just off to the west of their position. All heads turned in time to see a dark blue jeep with the Nevada Treatment Center Addiction logo make a wide turn away from them and speed away on a dirt access road that headed to the west hills.

"I guess that simplifies matters!" exclaimed Brass. Ordering four of the officers to stay behind to guard the prisoners and to keep vigil on the complex should things happen to cycle back to the treatment center, Brass reminded the remaining officers that they were just keeping the escaping vehicle in sight and not to get too close.

"CSI Brown, Stokes, and I will be in the lead vehicle. I need all of you to stay behind me. The situation is fluid right now. Remember, no one is to fire their weapon unless I give the order," barked Brass as he climbed in the passenger side of the Denali. Nick made sure that both Brass and Brown were belted in and then took off after the escaping jeep.

Warrick unhooked his cell phone from his belt and hit speed dial. Moments later, a static filled connection with Catherine was made.

"Catherine, what's your ETA?," shouted Warrick into his phone, knowing that the roar of the helicopter would make it difficult for her to hear him.

"We're just about there. I can see the complex in the distance. Archie is sending us the coordinates for Brass's phone right now," Catherine shouted back through the headset she had on.

"We're pursuing Grissom in a black or dark blue jeep. We are about ½ mile to a mile behind him. Do you copy?" asked Warrick in the same loud voice.

"Warrick, did you say you were in pursuit of a dark colored jeep?" asked Catherine.

"That's affirmative."

Catherine looked at Greg with a puzzled expression on her face. "Warrick, that can't be Grissom. I'm showing that he is stationary. Copy that?"

"Impossible Cath…One of the men with us confirmed that he had a clear view of Grissom in the passenger side of the jeep. Identity of the driver is unclear, but we believe the driver is Lucas Mallory. We don't have confirmation of any other passengers. The assumption is that Sara and Scott are in the back," reported Warrick.

"The coordinates we have show a stationary target and located towards the southeast part of the complex. What is your position?" shouted Catherine into her phone.

"We are at the northwest entrance and continuing in that direction on a dirt road. You should be able to see the dust kicking up off the desert floor," reported Warrick.

Realization hit Catherine like a bolt of lightning. "Warrick, Grissom is leading you guys away from the complex on purpose. He's playing decoy. Warrick! Warrick! We're going to land back here and then take off again. I'm sure that when we land, we'll find Sara and Scott. We'll pick them up and then catch up with you."

Catherine signaled for the pilot to land. Upon landing, Catherine and Greg immediately emerged from the chopper and moved away from it. Catherine dialed Brass's number and was met with the voice of a young man.

"Catherine Willows?" came the voice on the other cell.

"Yes, yes this is. Is this Scott? Are you Grissom's son?" asked Catherine.

"Yes, you've come to help Sara?" asked Scott.

"Yes, and to take you to safety, away from here."

Catherine looked up and saw a medium-built young man with brown curly hair emerge from under a slight cliff overhang. She stared at the younger Grissom, seeing the physical similarities between father and son. His intense blue eyes took her in, and Catherine felt as though Gil Grissom was staring at her himself. Scott held a Glock in his hand, but it was not raised. Seeing her, he slowly tucked the weapon into is waistband and strolled quickly out to greet her. He held out his hand in greeting and Catherine reached out and shook his hand firmly.

"Glad to meet you, Scott," Catherine said with a warm smile, "but we need to get you and Sara loaded onto the helicopter asap."

"Sara's this way. I don't think she can walk. She was hurt. Dr. Jones has been taking care of her," said Scott.

Catherine nodded and signaled to Greg that he and the EMT's were needed with a backboard. "Lead the way," she said.

Scott trotted back to the overhang with Catherine in tow. Dr. Jones looked up as the two of them approached and whispered something to Sara. Sara was awake and Jones helped her to sit up.

"Hey," Sara said weakly with a relieved smile. "You found us. Is Griss with you?"

"Yeah, we found you. He's not with us, Sarah, but we know where he is. We need to take care of you. We're going to load you on the stretcher and get you on the search and rescue helicopter."

Catherine stepped back and let Paul, one of the EMT's, and Greg place Sara on the stretcher. Jones debriefed Paul on Sara's injuries and they all quickly headed to the waiting helicopter.

"Cath, Griss, he's…he's not himself. He…" Sara tried to let Catherine know what his state of mind was, but Catherine cut her off.

"It's okay, Sara. We know he's not well. We're going to try to get him to surrender to Greg and me. I think he thinks we're the only ones he can trust," Catherine said in a reassuring tone.

Catherine turned to find Scott holding back as the rest hurried towards the helicopter.

"Scott, we've got to get going," Catherine shouted over the roar of the helicopter.

"No, I need to stay here. My father…I can't leave him with that mad man," said Scott without hesitation.

"Look, we have a bead on where your dad is, but it's important that you and Sara come with us," said Catherine, her tone urgent. "We're not leaving him. As soon as we have you loaded on, we're going to him. He just doesn't know it yet."

The younger Grissom hesitated. "You're really going to help him?"

Catherine nodded emphatically, "Yes, but every second we waste, the harder it will be."

Scott nodded and followed Catherine to the waiting helicopter.

*********************************

"Jim, Sara and Scott aren't in that jeep! They're back at the complex. Grissom's playing decoy," shouted Warrick over the noise of the Denali as it rumbled down the dirt road.

A flume of dust kicked up by the fleeing jeep was visible in the distance. Brass gave Warrick a questioning look.

"Sara's not in the jeep? Who's in the jeep for sure, do we know? "questioned Brass.

"Catherine's got Sara, Scott, and Jones in the helicopter with her. There's another chopper on the way when Catherine realized that there might be more than one medical emergency. The ETA on that chopper is another twenty minutes."

"Catherine is going to try to have the pilot head off the jeep. Grissom knows that she is on the way and, if he sees that she has Sara and Scott, it might get him to surrender to her," explained Warrick.

"Well, that's all well and good, but if they reach those hills, we might lose them. Nicky, we need to catch them before they disappear into that maze of hills.

Nick stepped on the gas and continued to pursue the speeding jeep.

******************************

Grissom was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his focus and concentration.

Each bump and pothole that Mallory hit sent jolts of pain searing through Grissom's body. The road was becoming increasingly rocky and as they reached the base of the small hills the road turned into little more than a wide twisting trail that climbed into the mountains. Mallory wasn't really paying much attention to his speed, intent on gaining as much ground as possible between them and the law. Several times the jeep veered off the undeveloped road and as the jeep climbed higher into mountains, the jeep came dangerously close to rolling off the side of the road.

Grissom gripped the handle of the door as the jeep fishtailed from one side of the narrow road to the other. Glancing back behind them, Grissom watched as the lead vehicle slowly started making gains on them. Turning around, the disoriented man shut his eyes as the scenery sped past him making him increasingly dizzy. Taking a deep breath, Grissom decided that they had gone far enough. Surely Catherine had gotten to the clinic by now and had been able to carry Sara and Scott to safety.

"Mallory, stop the jeep and turn it around," growled Grissom.

"Grissom, are you crazy? A little further into these hills and we lose those guys," said an incredulous Mallory. "This is the best chance we have to lose them. Once we hit the hills, they'll never find us."

"Mallory, I want to make sure they are occupied with us and have no thought of turning back for Scott and Sara, so stop the damn jeep and turn it around," said Grissom through clenched teeth.

"Grissom, you're not going to sacrifice me for them," growled Mallory as he jerked the wheel violently, causing the jeep to slide off the road and veer down a steep rocky hillside. The jeep tipped dangerously and then somersaulted down the slope, coming to rest right side up but balanced precariously on the edge of a twenty-foot precipice.

When the jeep veered off the road and rolled, Grissom, though he was belted in, was tossed violently about in his seat. He was pinned against the passenger-side door, his right arm wedged between the seat and the door. Grissom lost his grip on the Glock and it was lost somewhere in the jeep. The disoriented man groaned softly. His ribs that were partially healed were now broken from being flung against the seatbelt. Grissom opened his eyes and peered around him. His head was still spinning from the chaotic roll down the hill. Mallory's body was wedged on top of his. Mallory's seatbelt had snapped and he was now resting on top of Grissom's left side.

Lucas Mallory took a moment to orient himself. He had not anticipated losing control of the vehicle around the sharp turn. Hearing the faint sound of approaching sirens, he reached up and grabbed the driver's side door to pull himself off of Grissom. Other than a few bumps and bruises, Mallory had escaped sustaining any serious injury. His right hand was still attached to the steering wheel, and, ironically, it was because he was still attached to the steering wheel that he was not more seriously injured. Awkwardly, the man reached his left arm across his body and searched Grissom's pockets for the keys to the handcuffs. After a few moments, he found the keys out and freed himself.

Pushing against the driver's side door, Mallory managed to push the door open. Staggering from the jeep, Mallory could hear the sirens getting closer. Staring briefly at the surrounding hills, he nixed the idea of trying to make a run for it. With the desert heat and lack of supplies, trying to escape into these mountains would be suicidal. Peering into the open door of the jeep, Mallory could see Grissom feebly trying to move about. Grissom apparently wasn't as lucky as he was in not getting any more seriously injured. Grissom's nemesis thoughtfully rubbed his sore right wrist and decided he still could salvage the situation.

Mallory could only reach Grissom through the driver's side as the passenger side of the jeep was hanging precariously over the edge. Crawling over the driver's side seat, Mallory grabbed Grissom by the collar of his denim shirt and pulled the injured trembling man across the seat.

"C'mon Grissom. Help me a little bit here," grunted Mallory.

Grissom reached up with his hands and held on to Mallory's arms as Mallory pulled him out of the battered jeep. Mallory roughly threw Grissom to the ground away from the vehicle. Grissom lay sprawled face down on the rocky ground. He struggled to lift himself up, but pain seemed to radiate from every part of his body. Gasping for breath, Grissom choked and started coughing up blood-tinged spittle. Pushing himself up to his knees with his right arm, the injured man tried to orient himself.

After tossing Grissom to the ground, Mallory crawled back in the jeep, searching desperately for the Glock. Their pursuers would soon arrive, and Mallory needed the Glock to make his stand. Seconds later, he had the Glock in his hands and checked to make sure that it was fully loaded. Glancing down at Grissom who was still trying to get his bearings, Mallory stepped over and grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked Grissom to his feet and shoved the man against the jeep.

Grissom groaned and let his hands fall to his sides. Mallory pushed Grissom up against the jeep, using the vehicle as a support to keep the man on his feet while keeping his hand pressed up against his chest. Grissom's head lolled back against the jeep as he fought to stay conscious. Grissom tried to reach up and push the hand at his chest away but found that he was rapidly losing all strength. His knees started to buckle, and despite having Mallory's hand pushing him against the jeep, Grissom sank to his knees.

"Get up Grissom. They'll be here any second, and I need you on your feet!" barked Mallory.

Gil Grissom heard a faraway voice telling him to get up, but he couldn't seem to find his feet. Gulping desperately for air, Grissom rasped, "Wha…what happened?"

"The jeep slid down an embankment and right now we're in a jam, so you need to get your act together before they get here."

Confusion clouded his thinking and he couldn't remember. "The…they?" gasped Grissom.

"Yeah, the guys trying to kill us. Now get up on your feet."

The faint sound of the whirling of chopper blades added to the growing sound of the sirens. Mallory looked up in time to see a search and rescue helicopter approaching their position. Dragging Grissom to his feet, Mallory pulled the half-conscious man away from the jeep and into the boulders and brush.

************************************

A/N: Another chapter in as this story progresses to the end…just a couple more chapters. All mistakes are mine. Thanks for all the reviews as they have been such an encouragement for me to continue. becky


	32. Chapter 32

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 32**_

As the helicopter zoomed northwest, Greg shouted through his headset and pointed, "Looks like Brass and company have picked up speed. They're headed to those mountains. Can you see any sign of that jeep?"

Catherine shook her head. "I'm sure that we'll sight it in a moment." Catherine glanced behind her at Sara and Scott. Sara's color was much improved. Jones had given her something for the pain and she was gingerly sitting up, anxiously staring out at the passing scenery. Scott, too, was looking out the windows of the helicopter, hoping to spot the fleeing jeep.

Suddenly Greg shouted, "Catherine, look up ahead- about a quarter mile ahead of Brass. That's got to be the jeep. It looks like it's been rolled."

"Yeah, I see it. Greg let Brass know they're coming up on them off road," said Catherine as she signaled the pilot to find a place to as close as possible to the battered jeep to land.

*****************************

"Nick, Greg says the jeep didn't make the sharp turn just around this bend. It rolled down the embankment," shouted Warrick over the roar of the truck engine.

Nick quickly glanced back at his partner and nodded his acknowledgement. Slowing around the bend and then taking the sharp turn, Nick eased the Denali to the edge of the road and cut the engine. Brass lit out of the vehicle before it came to a complete stop and peered over the edge of the embankment. Within the seconds, the other law enforcement officers joined them at the edge of the road.

The battered jeep had indeed rolled down the steep slope and was balanced precariously on the edge of the precipice. The driver's side door was open but there was no sign of Grissom or Mallory.

Warrick flipped out his phone, "Catherine, we're making our way down to the jeep, but we don't see Mallory or Grissom."

"Copy that. I'm scanning the area, but I'm not seeing much. The sage and creosote bushes are pretty thick out there. If either of them were thrown from the jeep when it made its tumble down the grade, they could be caught up in the underbrush," reported Catherine.

Brass ordered the sheriff and his deputies to spread out. "Gentlemen, I don't know what exactly what we're up against. Use extreme caution. Protect yourselves but don't fire unless I have given the order or that you have been fired upon. All of you got that?"

The officers nodded in compliance and proceeded to spread out in search of the two men. Brass, Warrick, and Nick slid down the slope followed by three of the officers. They cautiously made their way to the jeep.

Nick and Warrick did a quick examination of the interior of the jeep, taking note of the broken seatbelt and blood spatter.

"Looks like at least one of them was injured. I hope to God it was Mallory whose blood this is," muttered Nick under his breath.

"Amen to that brother," replied Warrick. "Brass, one of them is injured. There's blood transfer here. Wasn't Grissom spotted on the passenger-side?"

"Yeah, we're pretty sure that Mallory had to be the one is driving since Jones and Grissom's son are accounted for," said Brass as he scanned the area for signs of where the two men could have gone.

Checking the ground near the jeep, Nick crouched down and examined the ground closely and traced the disturbance in the dirt to the jeep. "Jim, I've got blood. Looking at the way the dirt is disturbed, I say there was a brief struggle here. From the footprints, this person was dragged and pushed or pinned against the jeep."

Warrick followed Nick's reasoning and quickly looked over the driver's side of the jeep. "Looks like there's blood transfer here against the jeep, and my bet is that it's probably Grissom's, said Warrick in a grim voice.

"Yeah, well, they're not here now. What direction did they go? There's brush all around," Brass said as he scanned for any movement in brush.

"That direction, Jim," said Nick. "By the looks of the tracks, it looks as though one of them was being half dragged, half carried. It's for certain that one of them is in seriously injured. My guess would be that Grissom is the one that is injured. Although depending on Griss's state of mind, it could be Mallory who's hurt."

"Let's hope it's Mallory who is hurt. If it's Grissom calling the shots and Mallory is hurt, no one else gets hurt. He'd probably be trying to get him some help, especially if he thinks we are the ones who are trying to kill them. On the other hand, an uninjured Mallory will be using Grissom as a bargaining chip, and it wouldn't matter what condition Grissom would be in," speculated Jim Brass.

Pointing to the brush and rock that Nick had indicated, Brass signaled that the two senior CSI's should spread out and follow the trail into the rock-strewn area. Brass, who had obtained another Glock from one of the deputies, Nick, and Warrick held their weapons in front of them as they cautiously entered the sagebrush covered area. They silently made their way forward. Years of working together as a team under Grissom's tutelage had the three men working the brush intuitively without the need for verbal communication.

Warrick Brown's eyes swept over the slope above them, and noted the armed deputies as they scanned the area below. Warrick waved to them, and, in return, they indicated that they not sighted anything significant. As the three men worked their way through the area, they noted that the steep hillside was rising and getting steeper while this part of the canyon was widening to reveal a rolling desolate valley.

Nick continued his way through the brush and observed the trail of footprints and broken branches of the sage and creosote brush that were leading away from the crash site. Signaling Brass and Warrick, the three men concentrated on heading the direction where the trail was leading them. The three deputies had their weapons ready and were flanking the three men as they made their way slowly towards the widening valley.

*******************

Mallory tucked the Glock into his pants pocket, freeing both hands so that he could half-carry, half drag a trembling, semi-conscious Gil Grissom through the brush. Mallory kept to the shadows along the side of the cliff. The temperature was making a steady climb upwards and Mallory was tempted to dump Grissom in the brush and take his chances on his own. The fact that he could hear the pursuers in the distance behind him caused him to abandon that idea. He would have to find a place that would afford him some protection while at the same time be able to hold Grissom hostage so that he could bargain his way into finding a means of escape. However, Grissom was being of little help in being able to quicken their escape. Whether it was from injuries he had suffered from their horrific roll in the jeep or because of the wearing off of the countermeasure Kenny had given him, Mallory didn't know. Their pursuers would soon be caught up with them, and Mallory was beginning to grow desperate.

Mallory spotted a half-hidden overhang up the side of the western slope of the hillside. Taking a firmer hold on Grissom, he dragged the injured man up the slope towards the overhang.

Gil Grissom felt himself being dragged and pulled through prickly brush. The branches and stickers from the brush were scratching and piercing him. His arms and legs felt like rubber and his whole body felt like it was on fire. The pneumatic pounding in his head was thunderous and he couldn't tell whether the hammering he heard was coming from within his skull or outside it. His breaths were coming in great gasps between fits of coughing. Grissom tried to focus his eyes on his surroundings, but the bright sunlight seemed to be piercing his skull and so he squeezed his eyes shut to try to block out the offending glare of the sun. He felt like he was drowning as blood dribbled from his lips with each cough.

Finally, the dragging and pulling stopped, and he was thrown roughly on a smooth warm surface. Grissom slowly opened his eyes as he lay sprawled on a ledge of rock. He lay on his back, blinking to clear the dust and grime from his eyes. Grissom turned his head and his eyes gradually focused on Mallory, who was crouching down a few feet away from him. Mallory was scanning the area from this vantage point, trying to discern any movement from below. Grissom could hear voices, familiar voices, but he couldn't quite place them. He wasn't sure whether he was imagining them or whether they were really out there.

Mallory had found a slight indentation into the side of the hillside that had an overhang of rock. Hauling the half-conscious Grissom through the brush had sapped his energy, and Mallory needed to rest and figure out the rest of his strategy. The overhang would prevent any approach from above. The only way any of their pursuers could reach them would be to climb the steep incline to this outcropping. Unfortunately, the ledge he had situated them faced the sun and afforded little shade. The temperature was well into the 100's and it was not yet noon. The day would only get hotter; however, Mallory would use Grissom's deteriorating condition to bargain for water and the use of a vehicle to escape.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Mallory heard the faint beating of the rotors of an approaching helicopter before he actually saw it. The helicopter was flying up from the south, into this part of the desert landscape. Its occupants had probably already spotted the jeep and were surveying the area for the both of them. Mallory quickly turned around and crouched low over Grissom. The man was in the basically in the same position where Mallory had dumped him. Grissom was weakly waving his shaking arms about as if he was warding off blows from some unseen attacker. Mallory reached under Grissom's arms and dragged the man across the small opening and roughly pushed him against the side of the alcove where he wouldn't be immediately be seen by the searchers in the helicopter.

********************************

Greg Sanders, using his binoculars, scanned the area ahead of the searchers. He carefully scrutinized the desert floor and along the steep hillside. The brush was thick due to the natural drainage that flowed down from the mountains. The aerial view would help them locate the escapees. A sudden movement up ahead along the canyon side caught Greg's attention. Focusing his binoculars, he spied a figure along the edge of an outcropping that had a slight overhang to it. The entrance to the alcove was halfway up the side of the hillside and that would be hard to see from the desert floor because of the thick vegetation. Greg reached over and touched Catherine's arm and pointed out the window.

"Catherine, do you see what I see halfway up that slope?" said Greg into his headset.

The senior investigator peered towards where Greg was pointing. She smiled grimly and nodded to the young man. She immediately contacted ground team who were some 500 yards behind them and making slow progress forward.

"Warrick, about 500 yards ahead, halfway up the slope on your left, there's movement in a slight overhang. Unless you're looking for it, I'm not sure that you will see the overhang. We saw movement up there. Do you copy?"

"Roger that Cath."

The searchers continued their way down the desert floor. Warrick signaled to Nick and pointed to the general area up ahead on the left. Both of them scanned the slope looking for the outcropping. After several minutes, Nick spotted the outcropping first and nodded back to Warrick and pointed to the rock formation.

Meanwhile, the helicopter circled around in search of a place to land. Finding a relatively flat area, the pilot lightly set down and cut the engines. Catherine turned to Scott and Jones.

"Both of you need to stay on board. If Grissom is in control of Mallory, I think we can diffuse the situation. However, if Mallory has taken charge, the safest place will be on board here. The pilot has strict orders to take off and head to Vegas should the situation obviously turns dangerous. Do you understand?"

Jones nodded, but Scott simply stared at Catherine. The thought that his father might, once again, be at the mercy of Mallory didn't sit well with the young man. Seeing the look on his face, Catherine instinctively knew what was going through his mind. _Very much like his old man, _she thought. She tried to let Grissom's son know that the best thing he could do for his father was to stay safe and to make sure that Sara was taken care of.

"Scott, we're going to get to you dad, but you've got to stay on board in case anything happens. You've got to trust us that we know what we're doing. Grissom would not want you to risk your life for his. He needs you to make sure that Sara gets taken care of."

Scott looked back at Sara who was sitting up with the help of Ken Jones. "Catherine's right, Scott, said Sara softly, "Let them do their jobs."

Scott looked from Sara to Catherine and reluctantly nodded his head. He sat heavily next the Sara and gazed out in the direction where they indicated his father was. "You'll keep us updated on what's going on?" asked the young man in a low voice.

"Yes, we will. We'll bring him back, Scott; I promise," said Catherine solemnly.

"Okay," said Scott quietly, not looking back at the senior investigator but continued to stare out in the direction up the canyon.

Catherine nodded to Greg and they both started out to meet the rest of their team. The helicopter had been able to land relatively close to the overhang and Catherine was sure that the occupants of the alcove had seen the helicopter land. The question was whether Grissom or Mallory was in charge up there. They would find out soon.

*******************************************

From the protection of the brush near the entrance of the alcove, Mallory could see five searchers making their way down the widening canyon. He recognized Jim Brass among the four other men, two sheriff deputies and two men with black vests. All five men were armed and had their weapons in front of them. Glancing further down the canyon, Mallory watched as the search and rescue helicopter circled the area and then lightly touched down a few hundred yards away the men. Alighting from the helicopter were two figures making their way towards the five men coming down the canyon. All seven of them looked up towards the overhang.

"Well, they know where we are, Grissom. I've got to play our cards right," muttered Mallory to himself.

Crouching down beside the injured man, Mallory grabbed Grissom's shirt with both hands and shook him.

"Hey, I need you to be with me right now. C'mon Grissom. Open your eyes, " said Mallory through clenched teeth.

Grissom heard a familiar voice but it was if it was from a great distance. He struggled to crawl his way to full consciousness. The pounding in his head intensified as Mallory continued to shake him, and Grissom reached up and shakily tried to push away the hands that were shaking him so violently.

"St..stop, stop it," gasped Grissom. Pain and the tremors that were wracking his body were the only things that seemed real to him. The desire to curl up in order to control the red-hot pain that was coursing through his body was overwhelming as he tried to roll away from his captor.

Mallory wasn't about to let Grissom roll away from him and hauled the suffering man to his feet and draped Grissom's right arm across his shoulder and then wrapped his own arm around Grissom's waist. Perspiration soaked through his shirt as a feverish Gil Grissom tried to stand up on his own but found that he lacked the strength. Instead, his head lolled forward as he slumped against Mallory.

Lucas Mallory staggered forward, shifting Grissom's body so that he was now supporting the half-conscious man from behind. Pulling the gun from his pocket, he brandished the weapon and slowly made his way to the lip of the alcove so that the law enforcement officers below could clearly see the both of them.

"Captain Brass! Hey Brass! I got your boy right here!" shouted Mallory as he pressed the Glock against Grissom's head.

*****************************

Both Catherine and Greg met up with Brass and the others as they surveyed the area below the overhang. The disturbed vegetation below and leading up to the alcove indicated where and how the Grissom and Mallory had made it up to the overhang. There was no way anyone would be able to make it up there without being seen, so surprising them was out of the question.

"Captain Brass! Look up!" exclaimed one of the deputies.

All eyes turned to look up at the overhang. Mallory was standing behind and holding up a barely conscious Gil Grissom. The ex-convict was holding a gun pressed up against Girssom's head as it rested against Mallory's shoulder.

"Captain Brass! Hey Brass! I got your boy right here!" shouted Mallory.

Jim Brass looked up to see Grissom's head loll forward. Anger seethed through the police detective as he watched Mallory tap the gun around forcing Grissom's head back.

"Lucas Mallory, you know that you're not going to get out of this," as Brass shouted back his warning.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Captain. I'm sure that you want to do what you can to save your friend here," said Mallory as his voice echoed out from the alcove. "He's not feeling well and, to tell you the truth, I'm a little tired myself which means that I am a little short on patience."

"Mallory, let's just cut to the chase. What is it that you want?" shouted back the police captain.

Mallory grinned widely and looked towards the helicopter. His attention was momentarily taken away from Brass when he saw two familiar figures emerge from the chopper.

"Brass, I see that the helicopter over there has some passengers. Tell you what…I want some water and my cousin's medical bag. That's not all. I want Grissom's boy to bring the water and bag here."

Brass angrily turned towards the helicopter and upon seeing Jones trying to restrain Scott, Brass hissed, "Catherine, didn't you tell them to stay put?"

"Yeah, I did. Scott's is Grissom's son through and through. I should have handcuffed him to the gurney," said Catherine drily.

Jim Brass shook his head. This put a slightly different spin on things.

"No way, Mallory. I'm not giving you another hostage," shouted Brass.

"Fine, Brass. I really have nothing to lose. I'm dead either way. If I'm sent back to prison, I'm dead because I'm sure the leaders of the Knights have a contract on my head since they sent McKeen after me. I don't plan on returning to prison," said Mallory as he cocked the Glock in preparation to shoot Grissom.

"Wait…hold on Mallory. I'll bring you what you need. Leave Grissom's son out of this," shouted back Brass.

Mallory shook his head. "No, Grissom's son will be the only one I will accept. Grissom needs water. He'll not last another hour in this heat. No tricks. Don't try to doctor the water. Grissom will be the first to get any water so don't try anything. I also know what's in that bag since I helped pack it. Brass, the ball is in your court."

"Okay, just hold on Mallory. We've got to get Scott and get the medical bag."

"Catherine, get Scott over here. Load Jones' bag with water," Brass ordered.

"Jim, you can't...," countered Catherine.

"I can, and I will. Look, Mallory is right. By the way Grissom looks, he won't last much longer in this heat. Getting him some water will maybe buy us some time. I just wish we didn't have to use Scott. All my training says this is wrong, but we don't have a choice. If we don't do what Mallory says, we're basically signing Gil's death warrant,' snapped Brass.

Brass then turned to Nick and Warrick. "I need a long range sharpshooter. Find out which of these guys can shoot a long range rifle."

Reluctantly, Catherine backed away and hurried to the helicopter. She quickly told Scott and Jones the situation.

"Scott, you need to keep that flak jacket on. You're going to climb up to that alcove and bring water and the medical bag to Mallory," Catherine said quickly.

"How's my father? How bad is he?" asked Scott anxiously.

"I don't know, but he must have sustained injuries when the jeep rolled. Scott, whatever happens, keep down and, if you can, stay out of the way. Do you understand?" Catherine said with all seriousness.

Scott nodded, but neglected to tell Catherine about the Glock that was still hidden under the flak jacket.

****************************************

A/N: Okay we're almost there. Your reviews have been terrific. Please keep reviewing as it really motivates me into continuing. Let me know what you think.

Since I haven't done a disclaimer for a while, I guess I should include one. I don't own any of these characters with the exception of Scott and Mallory. All mistakes are mine, all mine.


	33. Chapter 33

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 33**_

Mallory was growing short on patience. He had been standing with a semi-conscious, trembling Grissom for well over five minutes and saw little movement among the law enforcement personnel below. He decided that they needed to know that he meant business.

"Hey Brass! My patience is growing thin. I think you guys need a little incentive to get young Mr. Grissom up here," shouted Mallory to the law enforcement gathered below him.

"Mallory! We're going as fast as we can. The medical bag was stashed under some medical supplies. It took them a minute to find it. Dr. Jones is putting water in the bag as we speak," Brass called out.

"I think your guys need to hurry it up a bit. I don't think Grissom can wait until you get your act together down there."

Hefting Grissom a little higher in his left arm, Mallory swung his right arm back slightly and rocked Grissom across the side of the head with the Glock. Grissom's head flew back and hit Mallory's shoulder with a dull thud. The strike opened a wide gash across right side of Grissom's face. The injured man let out a low moan as his knees buckled and he lost his fight to stay conscious.

Upon seeing Grissom's head fly back from the blow, Brass seethed with anger. Turning his head, he barked into his radio, "What the hell is the hold up? We need Scott up here now!"

Mallory watched with grim satisfaction as he watched an angry Jim Brass order one of his CSI's to hustle Grissom's son along.

Inside the helicopter, Ken Jones quickly switched the labels of the syringes that Mallory had shoved into the bag. Taking an empty needle, he also filled it with medication that would help Grissom gain some equilibrium, hoping that Scott would have a chance to administer it to Grissom while Mallory was occupied with other matters. He didn't label this one, but held on to it while he packed the bag with half a dozen water bottles. Handing the bag to Catherine, he also handed her the syringe. When she gave him a questioning look, he quietly told her to slip the needle into Scott's hands. The young man would know what to do with it.

Taking the bag from Jones, Catherine carefully backed out of the helicopter and turned to Scott who was anxiously waiting for the bag. She handed him the bag and surreptitiously slipped the syringe into his hand. Startled, Scott looked at Catherine and then glanced back at Jones who gave him a nod. For a moment their eyes locked and Scott gave him a grateful smile and slid the syringe securely up his sleeve.

"Be careful," said Jones softly as he watched his would-be son hurry up the steep incline to reach Grissom.

Scott climbed up as quickly as he could, wondering how in the world Mallory was able to drag Grissom up the slippery slope. It didn't take him more than ten minutes to make the climb and as he pulled himself up to the ledge, Mallory backed away from the ledge to allow the young man to pull himself up. Scott shoved the bag up onto the ledge and climbed up onto the ledge.

From the short distance away, Brass watched closely as Grissom's son quickly made his way up to the overhang. He saw Mallory step back, pulling Grissom, who was slumping on his knees, back. Brass took this moment while Mallory's attention was diverted, to position the deputies with long range rifles. Mallory was now pointing the gun at Scott while the young man stood up and picked up the bag to hand it to him. The brush growing close to the overhang obscured the view from below preventing the deputies from getting a clear shot. Brass sighed. They would have to wait to see what Mallory had in mind. For right now, things were at a standstill.

Scott looked with disdain at the man who was holding his father hostage. As far as Scott was concerned, this man was responsible for his mother's death and now, perhaps his father's. Anger surged within him, and Scott clenched and unclenched his fists. His eyes smoldered with hate as he stared at the man holding his father up on his knees.

Scott turned his full attention to his father. Even though Grissom was unconscious, tremors were coursing through his body. Mallory had made no attempt to take the medical bag from Scott, so Scott set the bag down and quickly took out a bottle of water.

Mallory let Grissom fall unceremoniously onto the hard rock surface and crouching low, backed away from the man.

"Well, Junior. Your old man looks like he could use some water. Give him a little and let's see if the water is spiked with anything," said Mallory softly.

"There's nothing in the water. No tricks, remember?" Scott said quietly.

Scott sat down and pulled his unconscious father onto his lap. He carefully dribbled a little water into Grissom's mouth. Reaching into the medical bag, Scott took out some gauze and wet soaked it with water from the bottle. He lightly ran the wet gauze over Grissom's face and then proceeded to wipe the gash across his cheek.

Grissom was in a fog. He was slowly regaining consciousness, though he would have preferred the blackness that had briefly enveloped him. He felt the impact of being dropped on the rock ledge which sent new shudders through him. When his head hit the flat surface of the rock, fresh pain exploded and joined the thunderous pounding that was already present. He groaned softly, but then felt strong hands carefully lifting him and had him resting on something firm. Cool water was dribbled between his parched lips, and he eagerly swallowed. Grissom felt the relief of a cool moist cloth gliding across his forehead and over his face. More water was brought to his lips and he swallowed eagerly.

"Easy…easy… just a little or you'll throw it up," said a soft, but familiar voice. Grissom tried to remember where he had heard that voice., but then he heard another voice, harsh and angry.

"Give me that water bottle," demanded the voice.

Grissom's mind cleared a little, but he was confused. "Scott," came the hoarse whisper, 'how…why?" He couldn't articulate what he wanted to ask, but cracked open his eyes. Grissom winced at the bright sunlight filtering into the alcove. He could only see clearly out of his right eye as his left eye was swollen shut from the blow to his head that Mallory had given him earlier. His vision cleared a little and he looked up to see the concerned face of his son.

"Sh…sh.. just rest easy. Have a little more water," Scott said gently in a low voice as he reached for another bottle of water. "Just sip it, okay?"

Keeping his eyes on Grissom and his son, Mallory edged closer to the edge of the overhang, making sure he kept behind the brush that rose slightly above the lip of the ledge. He glanced quickly over the brush and took note that Brass and the rest of the law enforcement officers were still below. No one was trying to make their way up the incline.

Satisfied that for now the police were being kept at bay, Mallory turned his attention to his captives. Mallory opened the bag and quickly checked his contents. The syringes he had placed in there back at the clinic seemed to be all there. He grinned, and took out a syringe with Grissom's name labeled on it. Holding it out to Scott, Mallory said icily, "Give this to your old man. It will push the withdrawal symptoms back."

Scott looked at the syringe and just as icily said, "No, it'll send him deeper into another trip. He won't be able to take it. He'll overdose."

Thrusting the syringe out to the young man, Mallory said forcefully, "Give it to him now, or I put a bullet in him to put him out of his misery."

At that moment, Brass's voice called out to Mallory. "Mallory! You've got water and Grissom's son. What's it going to be now, heh? What's the next step?"

Mallory dropped the needle at Scott's feet. "I'm keeping an eye on you. When I get done with Brass, I'd better see a needle mark in his arm and that syringe empty. You understand me?" ordered Mallory.

The escaped convict turned his attention to Brass while at the same time pointing the gun at the two men behind him. "Captain, I have my gun pointed at your precious Grissom and his kid. You keep your men away. Believe it or not, Brass, I'm trying to help Grissom right now. He's going through some major withdrawal which will likely send him into convulsions and he'll die."

Jim Brass clenched his fists, angry at feeling so helpless. From what he had seen of his friend, Grissom was in terrible shape and likely Mallory was telling the truth in that regard.

"Okay, no one down here will approach the outcropping. What else do you want? You know that we aren't just going to walk away from here. Maybe we can somehow resolve this without anyone else getting hurt. What do you say?" Brass called out, trying to think of a way to save both Grissoms without anyone else getting injured, let alone getting killed. With Scott up there, they probably bought Grissom some time, but Brass was sure the man's condition was deteriorating rapidly in this heat.

"Okay Brass, this is what I want. In about five minutes after Grissom's boy here has given his old man an injection, he's going to help me walk his old man down this incline. You're going to evacuate that helicopter except for the pilot. Grissom and I will get on that chopper and then I'll release his kid."

Brass was dumbfounded. Mallory had to be kidding. He really thought that he was going to be allowed to escape in one the department's own helicopters? This guy certainly had guts.

"Mallory, you know that I'm not going to let you do that."

" Then Grissom's as good as dead. As soon as I'm safe from the law, I'll release him. Unless you want two dead bodies up here, you'll meet my demands. I, on the other hand, have nothing to lose. Make the choice. You have five minutes, no longer."

Scott glared at Mallory and reluctantly picked up the needle. He rolled Grissom's sleeve up and glanced back at Mallory. Seeing that Mallory was half turned away, he quickly slipped the needle up his sleeve and pulled the alternate needle out, making sure he fastened the label from Mallory's needle to the one he was about to insert into his father's arm.

Grissom looked at his son with a slightly unfocused look. Trying to remember what had all transpired, flashes of memory flitted through his mind. _This is Scott…my son. He's here. Shouldn't he be with… Rachel?_ The memory falling on his knees in front of Rachel's gravestone appeared. _No, not Rachel…Sara…Sara's dead too? Told him to stay with Sara…take care of Sara…should be with Sara_

"Scott...Sara," Grissom whispered hoarsely. "Where's Sata?"

"It's okay. She's okay. She's in good hands and being taken care of. Dad, look at me. I'm giving you something that will help you, okay?"

Before he could respond, Scott plunged the needle into Grissom's shaking arm. His father's dark blue eyes widened a little with a look of surprise. Dropping the needle, Scott held onto his father tightly as the tremors continued. Grissom clenched his teeth as the medication coursed through his body. The swirling haziness that was hovering over him, along with the pounding in his head was gradually dissipating. It still hurt to breathe, but the panic that had taken over his body was lessening. Scott felt his father's body start to relax as his breathing became somewhat easier though he was still wheezing and coughing up blood.

"I…I want to check you over, okay," said Scott softly. "It looks like you took a bit a beating when the jeep rolled."

"Jeep? What jeep?" asked a confused Grissom.

Scott stopped and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I just want to check you out."

Scott quickly ran his hands over his father's arms and legs. Except for the left wrist that had been mending but was now clearly broken, all his other limbs seemed to be okay. His arms were cut and scratched from being dragged through the brush. Checking out the rest of his body, Scott guessed that his sore ribs were also now broken and from the coughing of blood and distressed breathing, he also surmised that Grissom may have punctured a lung. Internal injuries were a distinct possibility, but Scott didn't quite have the medical expertise to diagnose that problem. Grissom needed immediate medical attention, of that he was sure.

****************************************

Sara watched with growing concern as she observed Scott climb the incline to the overhang. Grissom was up there, obviously in worse shape than she had last seen him, and there was little she could do. The morphine that Jones had given her had taken affect, making the pain in her side a dull ache. Jones had been able to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss had left her pale and weak. She gingerly emerged from the helicopter into the bright Nevada sunlight so that she might have a better view of what was going on. Dizziness swept through her as she swayed slightly when she took a step away from the helicopter.

"Sara, you should be lying down on that gurney, not out here in the heat," said Ken Jones when he noticed that she was standing near him.

Sara shook her head. "I can't lay there when I know that Grissom's in trouble. What's going on? Why isn't Brass doing something?" she demanded in a low voice.

Catherine and Warrick came trotting back to the helicopter. "Doc, we're going to need to evacuate the chopper. Both EMT's need to clear the helicopter now. Leave all the medical supplies. Sara, Jim wants you over towards those boulders that way," Catherine ordered as she pointed to a group of rocks some distance away from the chopper.

"Catherine? What's going on? Why are we evacuating the chopper?" asked Sara, her anxiety rising.

"Sara, it's going to be okay," said Warrick in a soothing voice, "Jones, please help her to those rocks. We need a clear path to the chopper."

Sara glanced up at the overhang, and realization hit her. Looking at Warrick, she exclaimed in a low voice, "Mallory wants the chopper. He's going to use it to try to get away, isn't he? Is he taking Grissom or Scott with him?" Sara's voice was rising as her emotions started to go into overdrive.

Catherine attempted to calm the young brunette down. "Mallory's not going to get that far, but we have to make it look like we're clearing the way for him to take it. Gil's not doing well, and all this is to buy him a little time."

"Sara, girl, the best thing you can do for Grissom now is to stay safe. He'd want that. Sara," said Warrick, taking a deep breath, "Brass's got it under control. Let him run with it."

Sara slowly nodded, knowing that Warrick was right. She let herself be quickly led to the rocks, but made sure that she had a clear view of the helicopter.

****************************

Mallory took a moment to observe Grissom and his son. Grissom's tremors had lessened considerably. Scott was talking in a low voice to his father, and Grissom was nodding slowly. The communication between father and son made Mallory uneasy. Taking a couple of steps back towards them, Mallory nudged Scott with the Glock.

"Hey, move away from him now," growled Mallory.

Scott stood up and moved slowly away from Grissom, who was still trying to get his bearings. The thunderous pounding in his head was still present but was slowly easing off. He weakly pushed himself to a sitting position as pain through his midsection seemed to take his breath away. Wrapping his arms around his abdomen seemed to help control the sudden surge of pain. Grissom shook his head trying to shake loose the cobwebs that seemed to cover all his thoughts. He thought he heard Brass's voice through the haze. Wasn't he trying to get away from Brass? The world was still spinning and he couldn't wrap his head around the current situation. The roller coaster regimen of drugs that had been given to him plus the physical injuries that had been inflicted upon him was wreaking havoc with his mind and body.

He looked up at Mallory and tried to focus on the man standing before him. They were both trying to escape from whoever was chasing them, but there was something else he couldn't quite grasp. It had something to do with Brass. Flashes of memories from his life in Vegas merged with his thoughts. They were all jumbled together with his experiences of his time at the clinic.

"Grissom, I had your kid give you something to lessen the shaking. Are you feeling a little better?" asked Mallory as he crouched down close to the wheezing man.

Grissom stared at Mallory for a moment and slowly nodded his head. Mallory stared back at the man sitting before him somewhat puzzled. Grissom should be immersed in one hell of a trip. Instead, the man's eyes were starting the clear. It wasn't true when he told Grissom that his shaking would lessen, but seeing the man's condition actually improving, Mallory felt that he had to say something. The man should be experiencing severe convulsions on his way to an overdose that would kill him. Turning to Scott, he eyed the young man, his suspicions aroused.

"What did you give him? Where's that syringe? Heaven help you if it isn't empty," growled Mallory.

"It's right there by your feet. I gave him the whole thing," said Scott softly. "Maybe you screwed up the dosage or what was in it."

"Shut up. I didn't screw anything up," sneered Mallory.

Looking down at Grissom who was starting the remember bits and pieces of the last few days, Mallory shook his head. He obviously had underestimated Grissom's will to become fully addicted to the combination drugs he had been giving him. He reached for another syringe in the bag.

"No. You're not giving any more of that poison," said Grissom in a low voice, as he slowly scooted back away from Mallory.

"Grissom, you're not in a position to make demands. I have the gun, remember? Besides, the last dose helped you, didn't it?" Mallory said as he pointed the gun at Scott.

Grissom looked at his son and then back at Mallory. His mind went into overdrive trying to find a way out of this dilemma. He was confused as to why Scott was here in the first place. Wasn't he supposed to be safe with Catherine? How did he get here? Grissom shook his head. It didn't matter now. His top priority would be to ensure his son's safety.

Scott had backed up against the wall of the alcove and felt the Glock pressed up against his back. He had never used a gun in hi life, but he would use it if he had to. The younger Grissom watched his father scoot himself backwards away from Mallory.

"Mallory, I'll…I'll do anything you want- just leave Scott out of this. You're wanting to escape by helicopter, right? I'll go with you willingly and you can do anything you want with me- just let him go," pleaded Grissom softly.

Mallory regarded both men carefully. He knew either man would sacrifice himself for the other. He wanted Grissom to suffer more than he had already. Mallory grinned as a new plan formed in his mind.

"Okay, Grissom. It's a deal. Your boy will accompany us to the chopper. Once we are aboard the chopper, I'll let him go. You will stay with me, and I'll give your next dose on the chopper, and you'll take it willingly."

Grissom swallowed hard. He didn't trust Mallory as far as he could throw him, but at this point, he had little choice. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head in agreement.

*****************************************************

Nick radioed the deputies who were on the cliff above the alcove. The four deputies above positioned themselves so that each had a clear view of the helicopter. Each was equipped with a rifle, but the range was a problem. They were at the very edge of the range of the rifles.

Standing a few yards from Brass, Nick gave the police detective a slight nod to let him know that the sharpshooters above were in position. Brass turned his attention back to the alcove.

"Mallory," shouted the police captain. "We've evacuated the helicopter. Only the pilot is on board. We've cleared the way."

Lucas Mallory peered over the edge of the precipice. The deputies seemed to have disappeared. Only Brass and the team of CSI's were present.

"Hey, Captain Brass- You and your men are to back off. I mean way off. I don't want to even be able to see you and your men anywhere near. As soon as you and your team are out of sight, we'll start our descent. If you don't back off right now, I start shooting both men."

Jim Brass looked up at the outcropping and could see Grissom and Scott standing in front of Mallory who had the gun pointing at both men. Grissom's right arm was draped around his son's shoulder, but it appeared that Grissom was at least conscious. Brass sighed, but turned and waved the members of the team behind him to back off and head back up the canyon about 100 yards.

Taking one last look over his shoulder as he backed off, Brass watched briefly as Mallory and the Grissoms prepared to descend down the incline.

A/N: Another chapter in. I had a little trouble with this one as I wasn't really satisfied with the direction it was going. I rewrote this chapter a couple of times, and I think I like it better now. Tell me what you think…..Thanks for sticking with me.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Journey Through the Past – Chapter 34**_

Mallory cynically watched Brass and his team retreat from the area. He knew better than to really believe that they would completely clear the area and allow him to leave scot-free. Taking the handcuffs Grissom had used on him, he nudged Scott in the back and indicated that he should put one of the bracelets on and then snap the other one onto his father.

Scott took the handcuffs reluctantly while glaring at Mallory with hate. They were standing at the edge of the outcropping so that Brass could see that the both of them were still alive. Just standing in the bright sunlight in the oppressive heat was sapping what meager energy reserves Grissom had. Scott took a step back from the ledge, afraid that if Grissom passed out, they would both go tumbling over the edge. The younger Grissom turned to Mallory.

"He'll never make down the incline and onto the helicopter unless he can sit down in what's left of the shade and get some water. This heat is sapping his strength. I'll put on the cuffs when I get him sitting down," said Scott.

Grissom lifted his head and looked at both Mallory and Scott through hooded eyes. He sensed that Scott was up to something, but welcomed the suggestion to sit down in the shade. Grissom remained silent, too exhausted to offer any kind of protest or comment, but merely lifted his head to look at Mallory with half-closed eyes.

"Our window of escape is short. You have enough time to give your old man some water and get those cuffs on. Grissom's just going to have to suck it up, or both of you are going to end up dead," said Mallory with impatience.

"Right," muttered Scott, rolling his eyes, as he helped his father sit back against the rock wall.

"Here," growled Mallory as he tossed Scott a bottle of water from the medical bag.

Catching the bottle, Scott quickly opened it and put the bottle in his father's slightly trembling hands. Grissom leaned his head back and gratefully sipped the water and then held out the bottle to his son.

"Take some," Grissom said in a hoarse whisper. Shaking his head slightly, his thinking was starting to clear. "Scott, you were supposed to stay with Sara. Didn't Cath…"

Scott quickly cut him off. "I was with Catherine, and Sara's being taken care of. Catherine contacted Captain Brass. It's Brass down there with some guys who worked for you. I don't think that…"

A bewildered Grissom tried to reason it out, "We were trying to escape from Brass. The under sheriff was going to kill us. Brass came with him. Scott, we don't know who to trust out there. Brass could have fooled Catherine. Le…let me think about this." Handing the bottle to his son, Grissom gently commanded his son, "Drink."

Scott took the bottle and drank deeply. He offered the bottle again to Grissom, and after his father had drunk his fill, poured the remainder of the water over his father to cool him down. Scott was pretty sure that his father was either running a fever or suffering from heat stroke, either way his body temperature needed to be lowered. Glancing over his shoulder, Scott made sure Mallory's attention was focused below the outcropping, making sure the retreat of Brass and company was happening.

"Hey, kid…we need to get moving," interrupted Mallory. "Get those cuffs on now. I don't want you thinking you can run off if my back is turned from you."

Grissom rolled his eyes up to Mallory and said softly, "Give me a minute. The water helped…just give me a sec."

Turning half his attention back to what was going on below, Mallory replied harshly, "Just one minute, Grissom. The coast is almost clear."

Snapping one of the bracelets around his own right wrist, Scott crouched down so that he was eye level with his father. He lifted Grissom's right hand and was about to snap the bracelet around his wrist when he felt the barrel of the Glock pressed against his head. He instantly went cold. Feeling his son's hand suddenly tense up, Grissom opened his eyes to see the gun pressed up against the side of his son's head.

"Before you slip that cuff onto your old man's wrist, I want you to slip that flak jacket off," ordered Mallory.

Cocking his head quizzically, Mallory asked with amusement, "Wouldn't it be easier to have the cuff on your left wrist?"

Scott gave Mallory a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of the man's intelligence. The young man stood up, unzipped the jacket, and slipped it off his shoulders. He tossed it at Mallory's feet. Having his shirt tail out, the hidden Glock was safely tucked in the back of his waistband.

Patiently Scott explained to Mallory, "My father's pretty weak. The only way this is going to work is if I can help carry him with his right arm draped around my shoulder. I can't do that if the cuffs are on my left wrist and his right wrist."

"Okay Smart Ass, you've made you point," snarled Mallory. "Hurry up. We don't have all day."

Scott crouched next to his father and proceeded to snap the handcuff to his father's right wrist. Sighing heavily, Grissom gave his son a nod to let him know that he was ready to stand. The younger Grissom slowly pulled his father's arm across his shoulder trying to notice the sharp intake of breath that his father took when he reached behind him to hold onto Grissom's waist. Grissom's abdomen and sides were tender to the touch due to the broken ribs. Beads of sweat appeared across Grissom's forehead as Scott gently pulled the both of them to a standing position.

Grissom was leaning heavily against Scott as the two men took a tentative step forward.. In the mean time, Mallory had securely fastened on the flak jacket and was waiting impatiently near the ledge. Waving the gun towards the ledge, Mallory indicated that the both of them should ease themselves off the outcropping and start their descent. Picking up the medical bag, Mallory followed the men.

**************************************

Captain Jim Brass kept his eye for movement from the outcropping above. It had been several minutes since the last communication with Mallory. He expected to see all three men momentarily. He had the CSI's and deputies move some one hundred yards back up the canyon. They and the deputies were scattered through out the canyon, hidden by the brush. The order was not to shoot unless provoked. The deputies up above were ready but the range was just beyond their limit. It was unlikely they would be able to get a clear shot of Mallory anyway from that distance.

Brass paced nervously. The captain did not like uncertainty, and this situation almost assuredly did qualify as such. Checking his watch, he radioed Catherine who was with Sara behind the boulders near the helicopter. They could not get Sara to budge from her spot behind the rocks. She had to see for herself what condition Grissom was in. Catherine and Greg, along with Ken Jones and Sara were hidden from view to anyone approaching the helicopter from the outcropping.

"Hey Catherine. How is Sara holding up? The fireworks should start in a few minutes."

"Jim, she's a bit antsy. Physically, she should be heading back to Vegas in that chopper, but Jones has her stable- just worried about Gil. Once Grissom and Mallory are airborne, what's the plan?'

"Right now, we're just keeping an eye on things. The second helicopter you ordered landed about a mile from here. Nick checked out the tracking transmitter on the helicopter so once they're airborne, we should be able to track Mallory where he directs the pilot to fly and land. The second helicopter will take off when I radio them."

"Sounds pretty straight forward…should be easy," commented Catherine.

Brass sighed. He could think of a thousand ways this operation could turn into a disaster. It was all about opportunities, and from the get-go, the whole situation had afforded Brass few opportunities for the outcome he wanted. Grissom and his state of mind were the wild cards. It could easily turn on a dime.

"Yeah, right. Everything about this operation has gone wrong. Let's just make sure that everyone knows what they're about. You're going to have to keep Sara on a tight leash. Brass out," said the police captain tightly.

Catherine turned to the others behind her. "Brass is as wound tight as I've ever seen him," she muttered to no one in particular.

"What's happening with Grissom?" asked Greg quietly as he glanced over at Sara, his concern for her evident.

Catherine sighed, "Not sure, Greg. The only thing we know for sure is that Mallory is calling all the shots. Hopefully, sending Scott up there bought Grissom a little time. Jones told me a little of the treatments that were used on Gil. With the physical injuries he probably suffered from Mallory's goons in captivity and the tumble in the jeep, not to mention the constant injections of hypnotics and hallucinogenics, I'm surprised we're not processing his body. In any case, we need to have the other search and rescue helicopter ready- either to follow Mallory or to get Grissom back to Vegas for medical treatment."

Greg nodded nervously and checked his service weapon, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it.

********************************

Scott, with Grissom leaning heavily against him, carefully eased the both of them off the ledge, stretching his legs down until he felt solid ground beneath his feet. Bracing his legs, he took Grissom's full weight until the both of them were standing, more or less, just below the lip of the alcove.

"Take a couple of steps down and hold still," growled Mallory from above.

Scott didn't bother to turn around to look at their captor, but instead gazed down at the canyon floor, hoping to see some sign of their rescuers. They were either well-hidden, or they really had retreated out of harm's way. Scott was hoping for the former as he knew that they were going to need all the help they could get to get away from Mallory.

Scott looked at Grissom to see how he was holding up. A fine film of sweat was beading down Grissom's face, and he was clenching his teeth. Though the medication Scott had given him a little while ago had taken effect, the heat and exertion just getting this far seemed to negate the initial effectiveness. His ever-present tremors were making it difficult for them to maintain their balance on the steep incline. Taking a deep breath, Grissom gave his son a half-hearted grin.

"Hey, we made it this far, didn't we," came the hoarse whisper. Grissom forced his legs to straighten so that so much of his weight wasn't on his son. He looked down the slope and could see the helicopter. It would be a miracle if he made it to the helicopter in one piece. It was really several hundred yards away, but in his condition, it might as well as been a million miles.

The memory of being hauled up this slope by Mallory eluded him. _How in the world did Mallory get the both of us up here? _Grissom shook his head to try to clear it. _Obviously, Mallory doesn't want anything to do with the men down there. How widespread is the conspiracy that the under sheriff was involved in? _Grissom felt himself being pushed forward, interrupting his thoughts.

Scott was talking softly to him, but he couldn't make sense of what he was saying. As Scott tried to take the lead down the steep slope, Grissom suddenly had a wave of vertigo which made his vision swim in and out of focus. Swallowing the bile that had gathered at the bottom of his throat, Grissom turned his head and tried to understand the directions his son was trying to give him.

"Father. Hey…I need you here with me if we're going to traverse this hillside," pleaded Scott softly, shaking his father.

"St..stop shaking me. I'm dizzy enough as it is," rasped Grissom.

Scott worked their way sideways down the slope, his balance slightly off. His back, shoulders, and arm were aching from the strain of trying to keep the both of them upright and, at the same time, finding solid footing for the both of them so they wouldn't slip. Spying a large boulder a few feet down from them, Scott decided to work their way towards it and rest. He heard Mallory behind him working his way down sending small rocks and dirt their way.

Upon reaching the boulder, Scott eased his arm from around his father's waist and allowed him to rest against the rock while he stood and rested. They were about half way down and the ground wasn't quite as steep. It had taken them several minutes to get this far and the exertion to make it down the slope was evident on Grissom's face. Mallory was immediately next to both men, carefully scrutinizing the terrain. Brass and his men were either well-hidden or they really did retreat down the canyon.

Giving his captives another bottle of water, Mallory ordered, "Drink up Grissom. I don't want you passing out before we get to the chopper."

Taking the water from Mallory, Scott opened the bottle and held it up to his father's trembling lips. Grissom sipped the water and pushed the bottle away. "I'm okay. Take some Scott."

"The ground is not as steep from this point on. The going should be easier," said Scott encouragingly.

"Let's go. That pilot should start the engines when we get close to the chopper," said Mallory anxiously.

Grissom stood up, his dizziness and the pounding in his head were not quite as intense as it was moments ago. Taking slow, deep breaths, he eyed his son critically. The gun in Scott's waistband had shifted, and Grissom had felt it dig into his side as they were going down the steepest part of the slope. He vaguely remembered telling Scott to take the Glock from the medical bag.

"I know you still have that Glock. I felt it. What do you plan to do with it," asked Grissom in a soft, low voice.

"I wasn't going to let him get away," whispered Scott softly back.

For Grissom, an intense anger was rising in him. It had started as a slow burn as they had started their descent from the alcove. Now it was increasing in intensity. He was tired of the deception all around him. He was tired of being manipulated and of being a pawn. Grissom needed this nightmare to somehow end. Ignoring the pain from his ribs and wrist, he straightened his stance, the adrenalin coursing through his body giving him added energy.

"I'll handle the gun. Don't try anything. You'll become a target, you understand me?" Grissom whispered fiercely.

Scott paused to look at his father, startled. There was no mistaking the deadly intent and anger in his voice. The young man was taken aback by the flash of emotion he saw reflected in those dark blue eyes. Looking deep into Grissom determined face, he nodded hesitantly.

"Promise me, Scott. Promise me you won't try anything," whispered Grissom angrily as they made their way through the thick sagebrush. Again, Scott nodded. The tenseness in Grissom's shoulder lessened somewhat.

Mallory kept the Glock trained on his two captives and caught up to them as they made it to the last group of boulders before they reached the chopper. He had meant to stay closer to them but found that he couldn't keep up with them and scan the area for any of the law enforcement officers he was sure were out there.

************************

Above, on the cliffs above the outcropping, Deputy David Mickelson trained his rifle on the back of the last of the three men who had descended down from the alcove situated below him. He was a fair shot and was sure he could take the intended target with a single shot.

They were within 25yards from the chopper. They had just reached a group of boulders and Mallory was just catching up to the two other men.

Taking careful aim at his target, Deputy Mickelson slowly squeezed the trigger just as the pilot started the helicopter's rotors. The blades of the chopper started their rotation causing dust to rise off the desert floor and surround the three men making their way to the chopper. As the flash of the rifle spit its projectile to its intended target, Mickelson watched as the three men disappeared from his sights in the rising dust.

******************************

Brass observed the progress of the men through his binoculars. Everything was going according to plan so far. The police captain figured that the boulders some 25 or so yards from the helicopter would be a good place for Mallory to have Grissom rest before making a mad dash for the helicopter. His orders were for one of the marksmen up on the cliff to take out Mallory only if he had a clear shot. When the pilot saw the men approach the boulders, he would start the rotors. It was a risky operation that could get both Grissom and Scott injured or killed, but there was no way he was going to let Mallory get away on the helicopter.

The rotors of the helicopter started rotating, kicking up the sand from the desert floor and Brass observed the flash from the rifle as he saw with satisfaction Mallory crash into both Grissom and Scott from the impact of the bullet. He saw all three men smash into the boulders as the rising dust obliterated them from his view.

A/N: This last chapter was getting to be way too long so I had to cut it a little bit. Only one or two chapters left to go. A huge thank you for all of you who have reviewed. Please continue to let me know what you think and for sticking with this story.


	35. Chapter 35

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 35**_

From her observation post near the helicopter, Catherine watched the three men reach the boulders some 25 yards from the helicopter. Through her binoculars, she watched as Grissom and Scott make it to the boulders first. Catherine had not seen Grissom since she had picked him up from the hospital and they had met with the team in his office over Sara's disappearance. She was shocked at his haggard appearance. Grissom had definitely lost weight, and if Catherine were to hazard a guess, at least a good twenty to twenty- five pounds. She winced when she noticed his left arm hanging awkwardly by his side. The broken wrist was obviously in worse shape than before he disappeared. Gone was the cast, and it looked as though it had grown to twice its normal size and was extremely discolored. There were contusions on his face, including a nasty gash across his forehead. Noticing that the Grissom and Scott were handcuffed together, Catherine watched Scott gingerly unwrap his arm from around his father's waist. Grissom's face was contorted not only in pain but with anger as well.

A flash of light from the cliff above drew her attention and a second later, the sound of a rifle shot echoed through the desert canyon. Catherine quickly focused her attention back to the three men making their way to the helicopter. The rotors to the helicopter had started up and the dust was kicking up. Before she lost sight of the three men in the ensuing duststorm, she saw Mallory fly forward into both Grissom and Scott from the impact of the bullet from the rifle, sending all three men crashing into the boulders.

Catherine was at lost for words. Brass had told her that he was going to allow Mallory to board that helicopter without any shots being fired. What the hell happened? Catherine immediately picked up her radio.

"Jim, what the hell's happening out there?" demanded Catherine.

*************************************

Jim Brass watched as Mallory flew into both Scott and Grissom from the impact of the bullet. All three men crashed headlong into the boulders as the dust rising off the desert floor enveloped them. Brass was immediately on his radio.

"Everyone converge. Let's go. Move it," screamed Brass into his radio as he took off running towards the boulders.

His radio chirped and he heard Catherine's angry voice explode over the speaker. "Catherine, I wasn't going to let Mallory on that helicopter, and I sure in the hell didn't want Sara to know what I was planning. You keep her back there. I don't know what we're going to find once the dust settles."

Brass knew he would catch hell from Catherine later, but she wasn't his priority at this point. His only concern was neutralizing Mallory and getting to Grissom.

The dust and dirt continued to rise as the helicopter rose and flew away as per Brass's orders. He stopped for a moment to watch the helicopter take off and was satisfied that at least Mallory wouldn't be using it as a means of escape.

*******************************

The tension Grissom was feeling lessened somewhat after Scott had promised not to try anything rash. Adrenalin rushed through him as his anger continued to rise. His anger was starting to consume him, but he wasn't sure whether it was directed at himself, at Mallory, or at their pursuers. All he knew at this point was that this nightmare had to end somehow. As they reached the rocks, Grissom looked up and stared as the rotors of the helicopter started to turn. In a few seconds, the wind caused by the rotation of the rotors would kick up the sand. Glancing backward over his shoulder to see Mallory quickly approaching him and Scott, Grissom, out of the corner of his eye, caught a flash from the cliff above them.

A second later the echo from the rifle shot could be heard dimly over the beating blades of the helicopter. Suddenly, Mallory lurched forward, crashing into both him and Scott. The collision sent the three of them flying into the boulders that Grissom and Scott had just arrived at. Scott, unaware of what was happening, did not have time to try to break their fall but instead crashed headlong into the rock, partially cushioning his father from full impact into the granite surface of the rock. However, the younger Grissom took the brunt of the collision. Scott was rendered unconscious, bleeding from a deep gash to the side of his head.

Grissom lay twisted on top of his son, a bit disoriented. The rising dust was making it harder for him to breathe. Choking and coughing from the debris being swirled into the air, the injured man attempted to roll off his son without causing greater injury to Scott's head. Squinting into the rising dust storm, Grissom could just make out the image of Mallory, face down on top of his legs, making the task of rolling off Scott nearly impossible. Grissom lay on top of Scott with his right arm still draped over Scott's shoulders.

Taking a moment to check Scott's condition, Grissom let out a sigh of relief to see that his son was still breathing. Turning his head, Grissom looked down at Mallory. He could just see where the bullet entered Mallory's back. However, the flak jacket was enough to prevent any penetration of the bullet. Though the bullet didn't enter his body, Mallory would suffer one hell of a bruise. Mallory was starting to stir, and Grissom quickly realized that he needed to take control of the situation before his nemesis got his bearings. Painfully, Grissom reached down with left hand to try to find the keys to the handcuffs. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to control the pain, Grissom desperately searched Mallory's front pants pocket for the keys. He could barely feel his fingers and gave a squeak of success when one of his fingers hooked around the key ring that held the keys. He withdrew the keys and fumbled with them until he found the one he was looking for.

With his eyes stinging from the grit in the air stirred up by the chopper, Grissom clumsily reached over Scott's shoulder and was able to insert the key and unlock the bracelet from his wrist. As quickly as his broken ribs would allow, Grissom pushed Mallory off his legs and reached for the Glock that lay at his feet. Apparently Mallory had lost it when the bullet propelled him forward. Holding his left arm against his side, Grissom staggered to his feet.

Lucas Mallory's head was spinning. Coughing and choking, he suddenly felt like he was suffocating as he breathed in the grit stirred up by the rising helicopter. His back was on fire as he felt himself being pushed and rolled onto the desert sand. When he was suddenly propelled into Grissom and Scott, his head collided with the granite rock, and the impact stunned him momentarily. Now, he was laying facedown in the sand, and as his mind started to clear, Mallory could hear the _whump, whump_ of the helicopter. Mallory heard and recognized the ragged breathing close by. _Grissom! Got to get to Grissom and get to that helicopter! _ Choking, he pushed himself up only to be kicked back down into the sand. Groaning from the kick in the ribs, Mallory opened his eyes a crack against the flying dust and could just make out a ragged figure standing over him, pointing a gun at him.

Mallory looked up to see the ghostly image of the helicopter rising and moving away as the grit continued to swirl about. His mind went into overdrive. Brass and his men would be here soon. _Should have known better. It was a trap to flush us out. He never intended to let me get away on that chopper. _Brass had attempted to have him taken out by shooting him. Anger at being tricked fueled the rage that suddenly seemed to be burning in his chest. He had been one step ahead of the police captain by putting on the flak jacket. _Well, Brass is going to pay for the deception. His precious Grissom will pay the price…_

Hoping that Grissom would buy his act and let his guard down, Mallory groaned loudly as he rose to his knees, keeping his arms wrapped around his middle as if his ribs were broken. Peeking up out of half-closed eyes, he watched as Grissom glance back at Scott, who was lying still with his eyes closed. Now that the helicopter was moving away, the dust was settling.

"Grissom," groaned Mallory loudly.

With his attention briefly diverted from his son, Grissom turned towards Mallory. It was then that Mallory took the opportunity to grab a handful of sand and throw it full force into Grissom's face. Caught totally by surprise, Grissom staggered back as the dirt hit his face. He tripped over Scott's sprawled out legs and dropped the gun. His arms instinctively went to his face as he choked on the dirt and tried to get the grit out of his eyes. Mallory was quickly up on his feet. He picked up the Glock and took two steps to where Grissom had fallen, pulled him up by the hair, and swung the gun back, hitting Grissom full force in the face breaking his right cheekbone and deepening the gash he had given him earlier. When Grissom fell back with a heavy thud, Mallory tucked the Glock into his waistband..

"You son of a bitch…what were you thinking?" screamed Mallory at the man sprawled on his back. Mallory angrily kicked the down man again and again with rage. Out of breath, he stared at Grissom with contempt but then his attention was diverted.

Choking and coughing from the sand in his face, Grissom was caught totally by surprise. He felt himself falling on his back as he tripped over Scott's legs. Suddenly, he was pulled up by his hair and felt the stinging impact of the Glock as it hit his face. White stars shot across his vision when he felt his right cheekbone crunch from the force of the hit. He heard Mallory yelling but it seemed as if it were from a great distance. Struggling to clear his head and gain some equilibrium, Grissom tried to roll over and get up, but a thundering blow to his broken ribs sent him facedown in the sand, taking his breath away. The kicks continued and Grissom curled into a ball to protect the broken ribs from any further damage. His whole body felt as though it were on fire. He wrapped his arms around his body so that they would take the brunt of the punishment.

Just as suddenly as the kicking started, it stopped. Mallory's ragged breathing echoed loudly in his ears, and then he heard it, the safety being released off a Glock. Grissom took as deep a breath his damaged ribs would allow and opened his eyes. He slowly raised himself up.

He was slowly regaining consciousness. The groaning and the sounds of a boot striking flesh reached his ears and penetrated the haziness that was clouding his mind. He shook his head to clear it, and realization struck him that Grissom was no longer attached to his arm. Scott's eyes shot open to see Mallory, in a rage, kicking his father who was curled up on the ground near his feet. Scott reached under his shirt and pulled out the Glock and slipped off the safety. Holding the gun in both hands he aimed the gun at Mallory.

Mallory stood stock still when he heard the cocking of the weapon. Grissom's son had regained consciousness and was now pointing a gun at him. Mallory cocked his head, and eyed the young man critically.

"Step away from him Mallory," Scott said hoarsely, not daring to take his eyes off the man. Scott braced his back against the rock he was sitting against and slowly edged himself to a standing position. He heard running feet behind him in the distance and turned his head, his attention briefly diverted.

Mallory took the opportunity to pull the gun from his waistband and fired it at Scott. The impact of the bullet sent Scott crashing backward in the rock. Scott's eyes widened with shock as he looked down to see the flow of blood spreading down the left part of his chest. He slid down the rock as a trickle of blood slid from the corner of his lips. He slowly closed his eyes as he let the pain take him under.

Grissom watched in horror as the scene played out before him. Everything seemed to be running in slow motion and as Scott turned his head to see what was approaching from behind, Grissom looked up to see Mallory pull out the Glock.

"No!" screamed Grissom as he struggled to his feet. He launched himself awkwardly at Mallory. Grissom was just able to change the trajectory of the bullet but not enough for it to miss his son. He crashed into Mallory, sending them both crashing to the ground. The gun fired again as both men struggled for control of the weapon. The bullet ripped into Grissom, but he didn't feel the bullet enter his abdomen. Despite his injuries, raging anger and fear for his son fueled Grissom. Mallory lost his grip on the gun as Grissom continued to swing away. Grissom felt no pain as he pummeled the man under him with his fists. Mallory could not stop the fury and rage that was now Gil Grissom.

Though Grissom was running on pure rage, the bullet wound quickly took its toll. Grissom felt his energy starting wane and fresh waves of pain was starting anew. The burst of adrenalin that had fueled his outburst had run its course. Panting in deep gulps of air, ignoring the searing pain it took to breathe, Grissom reached for the Glock that Mallory had dropped and staggered to his feet. He swayed dizzily as he pointed the weapon at Mallory's head.

***************************

Brass and company stopped momentarily as they watched the helicopter take off. The police detective waved the law enforcement officers on. Time was of the essence. They did not know if Mallory was truly neutralized and what condition Grissom and his son were in. They would have to assess the situation instantly. The sound of a gun being fired halted Brass in his tracks. Both he and Warrick exchanged looks and took off running towards the sound of the gunfire. A minute later, they heard another shot. The dust was settling and, from the distance they were at, Brass and Warrick could see a lone ghostly figure swaying in the haze. Brass couldn't tell for sure who it was that was standing, but he was sure that the man standing there was holding a gun in his hand, aiming it low.

By the time the law enforcement officers approached the area where Grissom was standing, the blowing sand had pretty much cleared. Brass held up his hand, stopping the officers from approaching nearer to the scene. Holding his weapon in both hands low and pointed downwards, he slowly approached the swaying man. Brass stepped carefully around the boulders and noted the still form of Scott Grissom lying up against the side of a large stone bleeding profusely from a wound high in the left quadrant of his torso. He crouched down to check for a pulse and found that Scott's pulse was weak and rapid.

Glancing up, the homicide detective noted the wild look in Grissom's eyes as he pointed the gun at Mallory who lay on his back on the ground. Mallory had taken a hell of a beating from Grissom, which was something just short of a miracle when one considered the condition Grissom was in. Grissom's denim shirt was ripped in several places and was drenched in blood from a wound in his abdomen. He had obviously taken a beating from Mallory as there were deep bruises covering his face and his right eye was nearly swollen shut. The man was swaying and trembling. Brass had never seen such a faraway glazed look in Grissom's eyes before. Mallory was softly pleading with Grissom but the man wasn't listening as he cocked the weapon.

"Grissom, please, don't…I…was going to let you and Scott go. Brass, it's his fault. He tried to kill me…Grissom, please don't shoot," begged Mallory as he lay on his back with his hands in front of him in surrender. Looking towards Scott, Mallory noticed Brass's arrival to the scene.

Looking at Brass, Mallory turned his plea to the police captain, "Brass, you can't let him kill me. I'm unarmed…It'd be murder….you can't let him. Brass, he'll listen to you, please…"

Jim Brass looked at the man on the ground with distaste, but as much as he would have liked to blow a hole through Mallory's head himself, he couldn't let Grissom pull that trigger.

"Mallory, there isn't anything I would rather see than to see Gil Grissom kill your sorry ass, but as his friend, I can't let him do it because, unlike you, he would feel remorse later on for shooting an unarmed man," said Brass in a quiet voice.

"Gil…hey, Gil…it's me, Jim," Brass said a little louder, trying to break the trance that Grissom was in.

Brass slid his weapon into his holster, and waved for Warrick to come forward. Keeping an eye on his friend, the police captain whispered softly to the senior CSI, "Get both those S and R helicopters back here, asap. Have them land near where Sara and Catherine are. Also, I want Sara here."

"But, Brass, she…" Warrick started to say.

"Rick, if she has to be carried, then bring here. No arguments. She'll be the only one Gil will listen to right now. Now go…and get Jones here too," said Brass urgently. Warrick nodded and backed away. He hurried off to get in contact with Catherine.

*************************

From her position, Catherine could see that Grissom was standing and holding someone at bay with a gun. Through her binoculars, Catherine observed that Grissom had been beaten further and from the condition of the shirt he was wearing, he bleeding from a wound around his abdomen. She debated whether to tell Sara about Grissom's condition but opted to tell her that he was at least standing up right. They had heard the shots and were waiting for one of the guys to report back to them. Catherine was nervously pacing back and forth, wanting to venture to where Grissom was standing.

As the dust cleared, Catherine noticed Brass and the rest of the team approaching the area. Seeing Brass signal for the rest of the men to halt as he ventured forth, she watched as Brass waved Warrick forward and spoke briefly to him. Grissom was still standing transfixed with the loaded weapon. Warrick retreated from the immediate area, and it was then that her cell chirped.

"Rick, what's…" asked Catherine anxiously, ignoring protocol.

"Cath, Brass wants Sara up here right away. Have Greg and Jones carry her if necessary. I know that she is in no condition to walk up here, but Brass thinks that she'll be the only one who will be able to reach Griss. Besides, I don't think you'll be able to keep her away. He's pretty messed up. Scott is down. Gunshot wound to the left chest. Get Jones up here, too," Warrick said quickly.

"Right. From what I can see, it's a miracle that he's standing," Catherine replied softly. Briskly, she continued, "We're on it. We'll get her up there."

Catherine looked over her shoulder to see Sara staring intently at her. "Catherine? What's going on? Is it Grissom?" asked Sara anxiously. She was resting in the shade and was under strict orders from Catherine that she was to remain in the shade resting until the situation was resolved. Sara had only acquiesced if, and only if, Catherine kept her informed of what was going on in detail.

Catherine walked over quickly to Sara and crouched down to talk to her. "Sara, according to Rick, Gil is in bad shape. Jim thinks…, Catherine licked her lips and continued, "Jim thinks that you are the only one who'll be able to reach him. Scott's been shot."

Sara's eyes widened at the news, and she immediately started to get up quickly, only to be gently held down by Catherine.

"Sara, you're in condition to be running out there. I'm going to have Greg and Jones carry you out there on a backboard. We've got to do this quickly."

Catherine swiftly signaled to both Greg and Jones and told them what was going down. With the help of Paul, the EMT, they placed Sara on the backboard, along with Paul's medical kit from the helicopter. Once Sara and the medical kit were secured on the backboard, Greg and Jones took off to where Brass was standing vigil over Grissom.

**************************

"Gil…hey, Gil…It's me, Jim. Hey buddy," Brass spoke softly to Grissom.

Grissom muttered softly to himself as he slowly paced back and forth in front of Mallory, all the while pointing the gun at the man. He was waging a battle within himself on what to do. He berated himself for failing to protect the ones he loved. _Scott…my son…Rachel…dead because of me. Couldn't protect Sara…all gone. I have nothing left…I couldn't protect any of them. I let them down. _His world was swirling around him images from the past and present appearing before him.

Grissom stopped his pacing and looked up. His muttering slowed, and he stared at Brass as if he were a ghost. "Why are you here?" Grissom whispered softly. "Are you here to blame me for all this?" He waved his arm around and then fired the weapon in the air. Brass flinched at the firing of the weapon, and edged closer to Grissom.

"Gil…no, we're just here to help you. I just need you to put that gun down, okay? We need to help Scott," said Brass softly as he took a step closer to Scott and crouched down to check his pulse again. The young man was still breathing, but it was becoming labored.

Grissom's attention turned to Scott's still form, and he tried to focus on his son. "Get away from him. Don't touch him," growled Grissom suddenly, his demeanor totally changing. Stepping away from Mallory, Grissom moved closer to his son. Brass stood up slowly and backed away from Scott as Grissom came nearer, wanting to give the confused man all the space he needed.

As he stared down at his unconscious son, Grissom felt dizziness and nausea sweep over him. Suddenly his legs no longer had the strength to hold him up and Grissom sank to his knees. His right hand trembled as it held the Glock. Grissom shifted his eyes between Mallory and Scott.

"Gil…we need to get Scott some help…you gotta put the gun down," pleaded Brass softly.

"No, stay away from him. He's my son. I have to take care of him," Grissom whispered hoarsely, a strange glint in his eyes. "He's all I have left."

"No, Gilbert. He's not. I'm here now, and I'm not leaving," said Sara, her voice cracking with emotion. His haggard appearance tugged at her heart, and it was all she could do to not rush to him.

Sara's voice entered his consciousness. His eyes widened and he turned his head to see Sara taking a tentative step towards him. Behind her, a few yards away Greg and Jones stood silently with the backboard still in their hands.

"Sara," croaked Grissom, then he shook his head. "This is a trick. You're trying to trick me again," Grissom said to Mallory as he pointed the gun at the man still lying on the ground.

A frightened Mallory held his hands up and tried to scoot farther away from the distraught man with the gun. Grissom cocked the trigger and with a shaky hand took aim at Mallory.

"Gil...it's not a trick. Look at me. Gil, look at me. I'm not a ghost. I'm real."

Sara continued, "Jim's here. He's here to take of Mallory. He's not going to hurt you or Scott any more."

Sara took a deep breath. The wound in her side pulled with each breath that she took but she pushed the pain away as she focused on the bewildered man before her.

"Grissom, please, put the gun down. Jones is here. He can take care of Scott. You know he will. He helped me. He'll help Scott. Grissom, I promise, it's okay," Sara pleaded as the words tumbled out of her mouth, trying everything she could think of to reach Grissom's confused mind.

Grissom looked past Mallory and stared up at Sara. His eyes focused slightly and he tilted his head back slightly. Her quiet determined voice seeped through the haze, and he looked at her long and hard as if seeing her there for the first time. Nodding his head slowly, Grissom scanned the area around him and returned his gaze back to Sara. Letting out a deep sigh, he raised the gun so that it was at eye level and then watched it fall to ground.

As soon as the gun dropped to the ground, Brass immediately signaled for Jones and the EMT's to administer to Scott. Brass moved swiftly past the kneeling Grissom and picked up the dropped gun and then turned to Mallory. Two of the deputies moved past Brass and quickly had Mallory on his feet and took the man away in cuffs.

Sara rushed forward as quickly as her wound would allow her and dropped to her knees in front of Grissom. The injured man never took his eyes off of her and he tentatively reached out with his right hand to touch her, afraid that when he made contact, she would disappear. His bruised right hand caressed her face as she reached up to grasp his hand.

Grissom could finally let his guard down. His lips curled into a slight smile, and he let out a soft sigh. "Sara," he whispered.

Gentle hands were laid on his shoulders and Grissom allowed himself to be eased down onto the ground. He continued to keep his eyes on Sara, but she seemed to be growing hazy. Grissom fought to stay focused on her but his vision was fading. The pain he was somehow able to keep at bay now broke through full force. He arched his back and clenched his teeth as the tremors started creeping back. Grissom heard faraway voices urgently calling out directions. He was losing his battle to stay conscious and finally gave in to the blackness that was calling him.

**********************

A/N: Not exactly a cliffhanger but there are still things to be resolved. Thanks for waiting so patiently as work has piled up this week plus a hubby who had surgery for cancer (but the prognosis is good). I think one or two more chapters to wrap up and an epilogue. Please let me know how this chapter flowed as I hoped that it wasn't too anti-climatic.


	36. Chapter 36

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 36**_

Jim Brass watched both helicopters take off and head south to Las Vegas. Relief at finally locating both Grissom and Sara flooded through him. Sara had flown in the helicopter with Grissom. Wild horses couldn't have kept her off that helicopter. Grissom was in critical condition, and Paul wasn't sure that Grissom would survive the trip to Desert Palm. They were unable to stabilize him as the injuries sustained in the jeep roll down the hillside, his broken ribs, and gunshot wound to his abdomen all had finally their toll on him. Complicating matters was the chemical withdrawal his tortured body was going through, making it difficult for the medical personnel to insert any kind of IV.

Both Sara and Brass had watched helplessly as Paul and Jones worked desperately to stabilize Grissom before the S and R helicopters touched down. They were able to buy Grissom some time but how much was anyone's guess. Brass had gently led her away from the injured man so that Grissom could be worked on, but as soon as Grissom had been secured on the stretcher, she was right by his side.

Though Jones would be arrested and charged when the dust cleared, Brass had allowed the doctor to ride with Scott in the second helicopter to Desert Palm. The captain was confident that the man would not try to run for it. He had been invaluable in keeping both Sara and Grissom alive even though he knew that he would be putting himself in a precarious position with both Mallory and the leaders of the Knights. Scott's injury was serious. The young man had nearly bled out, but fortunately they had been able to stem the flow enough to stabilize him and get him aboard the second chopper.

Jim Brass watched as Grissom's team of CSI's went about the business of processing the area. He knew that they would be anxious to get back to Vegas to keep vigil with Sara, but they also knew that the evidence of the crimes committed against their colleague and friend needed to be gathered and secured in order to keep Mallory locked away for good. Besides, they knew that Grissom was in good hands.

Nick Stokes approached Brass, a murderous look clouding his features. Holding out the clear plastic evidence bag, Nick showed Brass the empty syringe he had recovered from the alcove along with blood evidence. Nick shook his head, "It's a miracle that Griss is still alive. Mallory sure did a number on him up there."

Brass merely nodded, his stomach churning from the evidence that Nick had recovered. Catherine and Nick would probably be two or three hours more in this area. Greg and Warrick had already headed back to the clinic and would be processing the cells Grissom and Sara had been held in, Mallory's lab, and the infirmary. Sofia was already on hand interviewing the clinic staff.

"Catherine, I'm going to head on back to Vegas. I want to make sure that Mallory is in a secure holding area and that he has no contact at all with any other inmate at county lockup. There's also the matter of transporting McKeen's body back to the morgue and filing formal charges against Pritchard," said Brass quietly.

"Nicky and I should be done here soon. I'm sure that Rick and Greg will need help in gathering evidence at the clinic," said Catherine quietly. She arched her back to stretch it out. "I'll let you know when we're heading back. Keep us informed about Gil and Scott?"

"Yeah, I will. I called Al Robbins. He's meeting me at Desert Palm, and he'll check on Sara. I'll keep you and the team informed," Brass said in a soft voice.

****************************

Sara had refused to be admitted after being treated in the ER for the wound in her side. Her only concern at the time was Grissom. He had coded twice in the helicopter, and both times Paul and his partner had been able to bring him back. After the emergency personnel had whisked him away, Sara, at first, had refused treatment altogether, wanting only to be available for any news from the doctors on Grissom's condition. Fortunately, Brass had contacted Doc. Robbins. Robbins was already at the hospital when the helicopter touched down. He was able to convince Sara to be treated.

Holding her side, Sara emerged from the helicopter, wanting to hurry after the gurney that the ER personnel were pushing, rushing Grissom to emergency. Doc Robbins had been there to intercept her. He held up one of his crutches in her way.

"No, Sara," said Robbins sternly.

"Get out of my way. I've got to get in there," Sara said stubbornly.

Doc Robbins continued to block her way. She started to push the crutch away, but Robbins wasn't budging.

"Sara," he said gently, "there's not anything you can do for him right now. You need to be taken care of. That's the best thing you can do for him right now. He will need you strong when he wakes up. C'mon."

She knew he was right, but anxiously stared at the ER doors where the personnel and Grissom had disappeared. Sara glanced at the coroner and nodded her head in defeat. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked away with a grimace on her face. Doc Robbins glanced over his shoulder and signaled for a nurse to bring a wheelchair over so that Sara could be taken to emergency. He turned his head as the helicopter took off to allow the second S and R helicopter carrying Scott Grissom to make its approach.

"Sara, it looks like Grissom's son is on his way in. You'll let the ER doctors take care of you, okay? I'm going to check on Scott and then I'll check on you next," said Robbins to Sara who had turned to watch the second helicopter hover to a landing.

Sara merely nodded, and the ER nurse immediately helped in her into the chair and pushed her through the open doors of the hospital. Robbins waited only briefly as the chopper landed, and the EMT's on board the chopper immediately rolled out the gurney in which Scott was strapped. Dr. Ken Jones instantly hopped out of the chopper, intending to follow the young man into emergency. He was immediately surrounded by Las Vegas police officers. Detective Alex Vartann stepped forward.

"Dr. Ken Jones, you're under arrest for conspiracy, aiding and abetting an escaped convict, and kidnapping. For right now, you will be held in protective custody," Vartan informed the doctor.

Jones glanced briefly at Scott as he was being rushed into the ER. He took a step in the direction of the hospital doors, but Vartann placed a firm hand on Jones' arm. "Please, you need to come with us, Dr. Jones."

Ken Jones cast a look at the law enforcement personnel around him and spied Al Robbins looking at him.

"I'm Dr. Albert Robbins, Clark County Coroner. I work closely with Gil Grissom," Robbins told the man. "I'll look after Scott, and let you know of his progress."

Jones searched Robbins' face and then turned to Vartann and nodded his head. He placed his hands behind his back. Officer Mitchell carefully cuffed the doctor and led him away. Detective Vartann approached Doc Robbins and nodded towards the young man on the gurney being pushed through the open doors.

"So that's Grissom's kid, Doc?" asked Vartann softly.

"Yeah, that's him," Robbins nodded. "I'm going to check on Grissom and Sara. I understand that Jones' life may be in danger in county lock up. Detective, from what I've been told, Jones may be key in Grissom's recovery from the drug cocktails that this Lucas Mallory has been forcing into him. He needs to be kept safe."

"I'm on it, Doc. Brass already let me know when he arranged for his arrest warrant. He'll be well taken care of. Don't worry," Vartann said as he walked away to take care of his newest charge.

Al Robbins hobbled quickly on his crutches through the emergency room doors.

An hour later, after checking on Grissom's and Scott's progress, Al Robbins walked down the hall of the hospital emergency to hear a heated argument. He smiled when he heard the angry voice of a young woman coming from ER2. Entering the room, Robbins was just in time to see a fuming Sara Sidle sitting on the side of the emergency room cot in a hospital gown arguing vehemently with a doctor in surgical scrubs.

"Ms. Sidle you suffered a deep laceration to your side. You had 34 stitches and suffered blood loss. It would be in your best interest if you were admitted for a day or two. You really are in no condition to be wandering around the hospital looking for…" the young doctor said trying to placate the young woman.

Sara cut him off, "I'm fine. You stitched me up. I'm virtually in no pain…"

"Sara, you may not be in pain, but you're being a real pain in the ass," interrupted Doc Robbins in a quiet voice.

Both occupants of the room turned to look at the coroner. Sara started to jump down off the bed but stopped when Robbins held his hand up and motioned for her to stay seated.

"Doc, Grissom…what's…" Sara started to ask anxiously.

Robbins interrupted her," I'll you tell you in a minute, but Sara, he's stable for right now. They're prepping him for surgery."

Turning to the young ER doctor, Doc Robbins held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Al Robbins, Clark County Coroner," said Doc Robbins with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Robbins. Dr. Matt Evans. I'm a little confused. My patient is very much alive and not quite ready for the morgue, but obviously you know her," said the doctor with a questioning look on his face.

"Ms. Sidle is a colleague of mine. She is a CSI with the Las Vegas Police Department. Dr. Evans, if you would be so kind, I'd like a few minutes with your patient. I think I can convince her to stay awhile," said Doc Robbins with smile.

Taking a look at Sara with arched eyebrows, Dr. Evans handed Robbins Sara's chart and headed out the door. "Good luck, Doctor," the young man said drily.

Al Robbins slipped on his glasses and perused Sara's chart briefly as Sara stared at the wall with her arms crossed and determined look on her face.

Sighing, Robbins looked at Sara over his glasses and commented, "Dr. Evans is right, you know. Your blood count is low, you're dehydrated, and you have 34 stitches in your side. You should at least stay a day or so, just for observation."

"Doc, what about Grissom and Scott? How are they doing? I can't just sit here," Sara pleaded.

"You can and you will. You'll do neither of them any good if you don't take care of yourself. Right now Gil's in x-ray. They were able to stabilize him, and they'll take him up to surgery any minute. Scott's condition is good. He's got a concussion and a through and through in his upper left shoulder. The bullet missed his left lung and their patching him up right now. He'll be staying at least two or three days to monitor the concussion and watch for infection."

Taking a breath, Al Robbins spoke softly, "Now, about you…It's usually not allowed, but I think I can arrange for you to stay with Grissom once he's settled in ICU. There are conditions, though."

"What conditions?" asked Sara warily, not entirely trusting the good doctor.

"That you'll follow Dr. Evans's orders to the letter and that you'll promise to eat and get plenty of rest," said Robbins with finality.

"And what happens if I don't?" queried Sara.

"Then you'll be assigned a regular hospital bed and be barred from seeing Gil as long as he's in ICU. As it is Sara, hospitals are somewhat picky about visitors in ICU. You can be easily barred from him until his condition is upgraded."

"Then I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" said Sara drily.

"No, honey, you don't. Shall I ask Dr. Evans back in here?"

Sara rolled her eyes and grudgingly nodded her head. Doc Robbins left the room and returned with Dr. Evans in tow. Evidently, the coroner had discussed the arrangements with the ER doctor because he appeared behind Robbins with a wheelchair.

"Ms. Sidle, how about a ride up to the second floor? I won't know exactly where your Mr. Grissom will be assigned, but his son is on his way to a semi-private room on that floor, and I thought that you might want to see him. You can rest in the bed next to his until we find out exactly which ICU unit Mr. Grissom will be assigned. Then we can make arrangements for you to spend time with him," Dr. Evans said.

"Yes, I'd like that very much. Do you know if Scott is awake? Does he know about Gil?" asked Sara as the doctor helped her into the wheelchair.

"He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but he is resting comfortably. He's expected to wake up soon. It probably would be best if someone he knows is with him when wakes up. Are you up to it?" asked Robbins.

"Yeah, I think I'd like to talk to him about his dad…and maybe about us," said Sara with a sigh as she was wheeled out of the room.

**********************************

Al Robbins accompanied Sara to Scott's room on the second floor. The events of the last few days were catching up to her, and the adrenalin that was keeping her moving was wearing off. She yawned widely as she took note of the young man resting comfortably in the hospital bed. The clean white bandage over the gash on his head was in stark contrast against his tanned skin. Bandages peeked through the hospital gown he was wearing. Sara reached up from her wheelchair and around the IV lines to briefly touch his hand. She didn't know whether it was to give him a degree of comfort or whether it was for herself. At least they were all still alive. Scott didn't stir; the anesthesia and painkillers were keeping him under.

"Sara, it may be a few hours before he wakes, and we won't know anything about Grissom until he's out of surgery. As soon as he's in recovery, Dr. Taylor promised to page me. I'll let you know immediately what his condition is," Robbins said quietly.

Sara glanced up at the coroner with grateful eyes and smiling slightly, nodded her head.

"Ms. Sidle, this bed is reserved for you until arrangements can be made in ICU. I would like to set you up on an IV. You're still very dehydrated and intravenous antibiotics will prevent any infection from your wound. You'll only need the IV until your fluid levels return to normal," Dr. Evans said as he helped her into the bed.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her, and she let the doctor and a nurse help her into the bed. A minute later, the nurse returned with the IV and Sara was asleep before she was aware that the IV had been inserted.

*****************************

Jim Brass rushed through the emergency room doors having set the speed record from Goldfield to Las Vegas. Once through the doors, Brass headed to the nurses station to inquire about the three patients that had by flown in by medivac. As he approached the desk, he was met by Al Robbins.

"Jim, I thought you were still up at the clinic with Grissom's team, gathering evidence and processing. What'd you do? Fly down?" Robbins said with a slight smirk on his face.

The police detective wasn't in the mood and cut straight to the chase.

"Doc, cut the crap. How are they all doing?" Brass said impatiently.

Turning on his crutches, Doc Robbins motioned for Brass to follow him. As they walked to the elevators, Robbins caught Brass up on the latest information he had on Sara, Scott, and Grissom.

"Sara is asleep in the same room as Scott. Both of them will recover from their wounds. Sara suffered a deep laceration in her side from a graze of a bullet, but none of her organs were compromised. Jones did a good job of patching her up until she could get to the hospital. Scott has a concussion and a gunshot wound through the upper left shoulder. It missed his lung and he'll make a complete recovery," Robbins paused.

"And Gil? What's his condition?" Brass asked anxiously.

"Gil's still in surgery. He coded twice in the medivac and at least once in the ER. They've got him on the table now. He's got internal bleeding from the gunshot wound, and that's the major problem right now. He has multiple fractures of the left forearm and wrist. He's got a concussion and a broken right cheekbone. His feet are the least of his problems right now, but when they removed the boots he had on, they found both feet infected from multiple cuts and abrasions. Those are his physical injuries. The anesthesia they're giving him is counteracting any of the withdrawal he was going through on the way down here."

Robbins paused and gave the police captain a sober look. "Jim, I don't have to tell you that he's got a long road ahead of him. Based on what I've heard, he's going to need more than just time to heal."

"Yeah," Brass said with a sigh as his eyes gazed upward towards the ceiling, his emotions starting to get the best of him, "but, at least he won't be alone."

Upon reaching the room where both Sara and Scott were situated, Robbins turned to Brass.

"Jim, Grissom should be coming out of surgery soon. Last time I checked, Sara was asleep, and Scott was still out from the anesthesia. I'll be back as soon as I know anything."

The police detective nodded his understanding and quietly entered the room. Both patients were asleep, and Brass smiled in spite of himself. With his heart feeling a little lighter, he left as quietly as he had entered, to call Catherine and update the team.

******************************

It was in the early morning hours when Grissom's team of investigators finally pulled into Las Vegas. After dropping all the evidence they had collected in the desert and the clinic at the lab to be checked in and processed, they headed over to the hospital. According to Brass's last update, Grissom should be just coming out of surgery. His condition was extremely critical, and he was being closely monitored in ICU.

Catherine burst through the hospital lobby area just in time to find Brass heading up to ICU with a cup of the hospital's version of coffee. Jim Brass had dark circles under his eyes and looked beat. She wondered if she looked as exhausted as he did. None of them had gotten much rest the last twenty-four hours. Grissom and Sara were their number one priority and none of them would rest until they heard and seen first hand that their colleagues were being well-taken care of.

With the guys trailing behind her, Catherine made a beeline for Brass and caught up with him as he entered the elevator that would take him up to ICU. Holding the doors open for Catherine and the rest of the team, Brass informed them of Grissom's condition. He had just finished when the doors opened to the third floor.

"Sara's with him right now. They're only allowing two visitors at a time, and only for ten minutes a visit. Doc Robbins was able to convince the hospital to allow Sara to stay with him pretty much full time so we can go in one at a time," shared Brass as they approached the nurses' station.

"If you guys wait here, I think I can get Sara to come out so that you can go in two at a time. She can tell you a little more I can," continued Brass.

"Wait, Jim. Shouldn't Sara be in a hospital bed herself?" asked Catherine.

"Catherine, you don't want to go there," he said drily.

Nick gave both of them a tired grin. The Texan could well imagine the scene that went on for Sara to get her way. He also knew that the best medicine for Grissom at the moment was for Sara to be with him. Warrick pointed to a bank of chairs opposite the nurses' station, and Catherine and company sat down to wait for Brass to come back.

Sara was curled up in the padded chair that could be folded out to a cot. The IV had been removed when she arrived in Grissom's room. She had promised to drink plenty of fluids and Dr. Evans had determined that as long as she was willing to take oral antibiotics that the one dose of IV antibiotics were all that was necessary. The chair had been placed alongside the right side of the hospital and so Sara was able to hold Grissom's right hand. The young woman felt rested having been able to sleep for at least six hours. Doc Robbins was waiting by her bedside with news when she had awakened. Grissom was in recovery by then, but had not regained consciousness, nor was he expected to for some time.

She held his hand lightly, entwining her fingers with his. His hand lay loosely around hers. There had been no response on his part, but for the moment, Sara was happy that his hand was warm to the touch. Listening to the steady beep of the monitor, she was comforted for the time being that his heart continued to beat. A soft shuffle at the entrance to the room brought her attention to the door.

Brass stood leaning against the door jamb with a steaming cup of coffee. He gave her a half smile and strolled in, handing her the cup.

"Here's your coffee. Catherine and they guys are here. Hospital rules won't let more than two of them at a time come in. Want to get a little fresh air and let them come in to see the bugman for themselves?" asked Brass softly.

Sara gave him a small smile and gave him a nod. Brass extended his hand and helped her up from her seat. Sara turned to the still form on the bed and gingerly leaned over to whisper into his ear.

"Hey Gil. Catherine, Nick, Greg, and Rick have just gotten back from the clinic. They want to come in see you for a bit. I need to step out for a little while so that they can come in and see you. Don't give them a hard time, okay? I'll be back soon," she whispered softly and gently kissed his temple.

Gingerly, Sara moved away from the bed and allowed Brass to lead her slowly out of the room and down the hall where the team was waiting. She was greeted with gentle hugs as she updated them on Grissom's condition.

"Right now, it's a waiting game. The first 24 to 48 hours are critical. If he gets through the next two days without any major complications, his chances for survival increase dramatically. We won't know how much brain damage, if any, he has until he wakes up. The longer it takes for him to wake up, the more likely there'll be residual effects from all that he's been through."

Catherine nodded her understanding. She hadn't had a chance to see Grissom close up since they had met in his office ages ago.

Sara continued, "When you go in, talk to him. Dr. Taylor said that even though he may not respond, on a subconscious level, he'll hear and it may help him find his way back."

"Why don't you sit down while we all take turns visiting with Gil," Catherine said to Sara.

Sara sat down and watched gratefully as her colleagues, her family, went in to visit with Grissom.

*********************************

A/N: I really hadn't intended to write much more than a chapter about the aftermath, but my muses got a hold of me and told me that the aftermath needed to be more than "a okay everyone is going to recover and the bad guys are in jail type of ending." My muses wanted explore how Grissom and company work through the events….so the story extend longer than just a chapter or two. I hope it works……


	37. Chapter 37

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 37**_

Sara silently watched Nick and Warrick make their way down the hall to visit Grissom. After a moment, she stood up.

"Catherine, I really need to check on Scott. The doctor indicated that he would be out for a while, but he could wake up any moment. I should go see how he's doing."

Greg immediately stood up. "I'll go with you. I'd like to get to know Grissom's son a little better. I didn't really get to talk to him much when we were all on the helicopter."

Sara gave the young CSI a wide smile. "Greg, I think that would be great. He could use someone to connect with."

Greg shrugged. It was the least he could do. Not having any siblings, Greg could easily connect with Scott as a younger brother. He was eager to find out if the son was a chip off the old block so to speak.

**********************

Sara entered the room first. She asked Greg to wait outside the room initially. As she tiptoed quietly into the room, Sara noted that Scott's eyes were closed. The tall brunette studied the young man for a moment. Now that she had a quiet moment to really study Grissom's son, she could see Grissom clearly in the young man's features. He had his father's curly hair and shape of face. Scott's mother was probably shorter and more fine boned than Sara as her son was not quite as tall as his father, and he did not have his father's muscular build. Scott stirred slightly as if sensing her presence.

"Scott?" Sara whispered softly.

The young man turned his head towards the voice and opened his eyes a crack.

"Hey there. How do you feel?"

"Head hurts. My shoulder and chest feels like they're on fire," he said tightly.

"You're at Desert Palm Hospital in Las Vegas. You've been here since last night. Lucas Mallory shot you through the shoulder. Apparently you sustained a concussion when you were thrown against a boulder, but you should heal just fine," Sara gently told him.

Scott nodded his understanding. "And what about Grissom? My father….How's he doing?"

"He's in ICU on the next floor. He's stable and holding his own right now. When you're up to it, I'm sure the doctors will allow you to visit him," explained Sara.

Scott pursed his lips and furled his brow. "So he's awake? The last thing I remember was that Mallory had him on the ground and was kicking and screaming at him. I vaguely remember pulling out the gun, and Mallory stopping when he heard me cocking the gun. After that, everything is blank."

"Uhm…no, Scott, he's not awake. Grissom was able to get to Mallory in time for the shot to be off target or we wouldn't be talking right now. Anyway, your father and Mallory fought for control of the gun," Sara paused.

"and then what happened?" asked Scott anxiously.

"He…got the gun away from Mallory, but not before getting shot himself. Scott, I don't know how he kept going, but I believe that the only thing that kept him standing was you. He only allowed anyone near when he realized that you needed help," explained Sara.

"So, Sara, how bad off is he? What...uhm…he's not going to die, is he?" asked Scott haltingly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I'm not going to lie to you. The doctors have done everything they could do. Like I said, he's holding his own, but right now they have him deeply sedated. Partly because of the injuries and partly because of the physical withdrawal from the drug cocktail he had been given. The sedation is suppressing the withdrawal, but they are lowering the dosages of the sedation incremently to allow his body to fight the withdrawal. Right now he's too physically weak to handle it fully, and if he is kept under for too long, the risk is brain damage. They are slowly decreasing the sedation, but the longer it takes him to wake up, the more likely it will be that he will have some residual effects."

Scott looked away from Sara and blinked back the tears that threatened to overtake him.

"How about you? Shouldn't you be lying down or something?" Scott asked suddenly as he observed Sara unconsciously holding her left side.

Sara gave him a small smile at his attentiveness. "I've been cleared by the doctors as long as I take care of myself. I've been splitting time between you and your dad. Right now the Catherine and the rest of the team are with your father. I'm just very sore."

The young woman glanced up and noticed that Greg was still waiting just outside the door.

"Listen, I want to go back up stairs and check on Griss, but I brought a friend down to keep you company for a while. Maybe you remember him. I don't think that you were ever properly introduced."

Sara called out just loud enough to grab Greg's attention, "Hey, Greg. C'mon in."

Greg Sanders sauntered in, hands in his pockets, and a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, I don't think that I ever really told you my name."

Scott stared at the young CSI momentarily, and then a spark of recognition crossed his face. "Yeah, I think I remember you. Weren't you…uhm…on the helicopter that picked us up from the clinic."

Greg grinned," That's right." Taking his right hand out of his pocket, he thrust his hand out towards Scott. "My name's Greg Sanders."

Scott gave him a small smile back. "Nice to meet you…and thank you for all that you've done." The younger Grissom took Greg's hand and shook it warmly.

Greg just shook his hand and simply said, "Just doin' my job, ya know? Glad to do it. Didn't know that Grissom had a son."

Sara gave both young men a small smile, "I think I will go upstairs and see how Grissom is doing." Looking pointedly at Greg and then at Scott, she continued, "Greg, don't tire him out. Scott, I'll be back down in a little while and let you know if there are any changes."

Greg gave her a smile, "I'll be up in a bit. I want to see Griss, too."

Greg sat down to make himself comfortable. Scott looked at the young CSI curiously. "You work for my father? He's your boss?"

"Yeah, he is. He changed my life. I was just a lab tech, and he allowed me to go into the field. I'm a CSI now, thanks to your dad."

Scott looked away from Greg with a distant look on his face. "I don't really know a lot about him. I know that he is a scientist and that my mom loved him and never stopped loving him. She told me a lot about him, but it was all so long ago."

Greg cocked his head to the side and asked softly, "What do you want to know? I'll tell you what I know."

****************************************

By the time Sara made it back to the third floor, she was starting to tire. Warrick and Nick were quietly conversing in the waiting room. Brass and Catherine were apparently in with Grissom. Sara flopped gratefully into one of the hard plastic chairs.

"Sara, you need to get some rest. You're not going to be any good to Grissom if you're flat on your back in bed," Nick said gently.

Sara gave the tall Texan a wan smile. "I know Nick. Dr. Taylor and Dr. Evans have it arranged for me to stay in ICU with Grissom. I'm probably due for some pain meds and I have antibiotics to take. As soon as Brass and Catherine come out, I'll go lay down for a bit. Will that do?"

"Yeah, we'll bring you something to eat too. Anything's got to be better than the hospital food," Warrick said with a grin.

Looking through the entry way of the waiting area, the three CSI's watched Jim Brass and Catherine Willows make their way to them. The serious expression on Grissom's second-in-command showed her obvious concern over Grissom's condition.

"How long do they expect him to be life support? I thought he was holding his own," asked Catherine.

"It's just for the next 24 to 48 hours. The life support is to help him get some strength back. They're slowly easing off the sedation that's keeping him under. The withdrawal from the ecstasy/pcp cocktail has been suppressed with the sedation. He needs to be strong enough physically to withstand the withdrawal," said Sara with a sigh.

"Catherine, would you do me a favor? Could you go to the townhouse and bring me some clean clothes? I'd really appreciate it. The hospital gave me some scrubs to replace the patient uniform I had from the clinic, but I really think I'll feel more comfortable in my own things. No rush…just whenever you get back over here," asked Sara.

"Sure thing. I need to go home and see Lindsey and get some sleep. Will tonight before shift do?" asked Catherine.

Sara nodded and yawned widely.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who could use some sleep. Get some sleep, Sara. Guys, you too," said Catherine turning to Warrick and Nick.

"Yeah, right. Nicky and I will pick up Greg from Scott's room. We'll see y'all tonight," said Warrick around his own yawn.

Giving each of them a gentle hug with a promise to let them know of any changes in Grissom's condition, Sara bade each of her colleagues good-bye. Taking Sara firmly by the hand, Brass led her down the hall towards Grissom's room.

"Okay, kiddo. You're home. I'll alert the nurses that you're back so they can give you your meds," said Brass as he led her to the cot that had been placed near Grissom's hospital bed.

Sara sat down and sighed. She studied the man lying so still before her. He lay beneath a jumble of tubes and wires. His face was bruised and battered; the right side of his face was swollen and sported varying shades of purple and black. His severely abused left arm was elevated on a stack of pillows. Dr. Taylor was distressed that the broken wrist he had set a couple of weeks before was now more severely damaged. Now, not only was the wrist broken, the bones that had started to knit themselves back together were shattered worse than before. Both the radius and ulna were fractured in three places. It was impossible to cast the arm because of the amount of swelling. More surgery would be required anyway before the arm could be cast, and the patient, at the present time, was in no condition for such a procedure. Dr. Taylor had instead inserted a series of screws and wires to a light weight frame that surrounded the arm to stabilize the arm and prevent the bones from shifting further.

When Grissom had struggled with Mallory over control of the Glock, the bullet that had hit him at close range had done the most damage. When the bullet had entered the upper part of his abdominal cavity, its trajectory was slightly downward. The bullet ricocheted off two of the broken ribs, shattering the bones. Having the trajectory slightly changed, it proceeded to lacerate his liver and rip through his large intestine before exiting out his back. Grissom was fortunate in that the major artery and vein leading to and from the heart were spared. He had suffered internal bleeding but other than the intestine and liver, the rest of his major organs had escaped major injury. The doctors had been able to stop the internal bleeding, but his injury was complicated by the broken ribs on both sides of his torso. The doctors not only had to contend with the bleeders created by the passage of the bullet, but also the havoc caused by the shattering of the two ribs. The other ribs that were broken, either by Mallory's kicking action or by the wild ride in the jeep, also made it difficult for the surgeons to work at finding the bleeders.

Sara stared at the gentle rise and fall of Grissom's chest as the respirator regulated his breathing. The steady beep of the heart monitor was of little comfort at the moment. Grissom had never given her power of attorney. Instead, he had insisted that he had wanted Brass to make those decisions, wanting to spare her the agony of having to decide. Now as she watched the monitors, she wondered whether she should approach Brass. The Gil Grissom she knew would not want heroic measures taken to keep him alive.

***************************

He was floating on a dark sea of gentle waves. He could hear faint murmurings, familiar voices, soft and encouraging. Grissom couldn't quite understand or make out the words that were being spoken, but the urge to seek out the voices was strong. Inwardly, he sighed and tried to find his way to the voices, but he was so tired and weak. His tired mind refused to work and slowly a dull ache started to wash over him. The murmurings seemed to be drifting away. Grissom wanted to shout, "No, wait! Wait for me. I'm coming. I just need to rest." He just to keep the voices near, but he was too weak to even move. Grissom let the darkness slowly pull him back into oblivion.

************************************

Nick Stokes walked into the crime lab. It just before shift the next day, and he had just come back from the hospital after bringing Sara some food and checking up on Grissom. There was little change in Grissom's condition since the team had seen him the night before. Feeling well-rested, the tall Texan entered the break room for a cup of coffee before going to the layout room. Passing the trace lab, Nick took note that Hodges was busily engaged entering data into a computer and then checking the results on a clipboard. Turning into the layout room, he found Catherine already busy laying out photos of the clinic and of the desert crime scene. She looked up and gave Nick a small smile.

"Just come from the hospital? How's Grissom?" she asked softly as she continued to lay out photos.

"No change, Cath. I guess that's a good thing, right? I mean, Sara said he didn't have any setbacks in the last twenty-four hours," Nick said hopefully.

"Yeah, Nicky. He's holding his own. We keep holding on to that. Sara doing okay?"

"Just worried about Grissom. I don't think she's been getting much sleep, but other than that, she seems to be doing okay," Nick said with a shrug.

"For Sara, that goes without saying. I think she and Grissom could go days without sleep," said Catherine shaking her head.

"Where do you want me to start?" asked Nick as he stared at the various photos of the crime scenes.

"Well, we know that Grissom was subject to drug experimentation by Mallory. What we don't know is what exactly Mallory was using and the dosages. The only thing we know at this point is that they were highly addictive. We'll have to wait until Henry comes back with the tox panels. I promised Dr. Taylor that as soon as we get the results, we could give them the data so they would know how to proceed in treating Grissom. Dr. Jones actually would be the most qualified to treat the physical addiction, but I don't know if we can twist the system so he would be allowed to do so."

"Where is Jones anyway?" asked Nick.

Scanning the photos, Catherine replied, "Brass's got him in a safe house, and before you say anything, I'm pretty sure that it is really safe. However, I have a hard time believing that Pritchard and McKeen were the only ones on the take. I'm sure that once this investigation ends, we're going be ferreting out more bad cops. Jim did handpick the officers to guard Jones, so I'm pretty sure the guy is safe."

Warrick Brown strolled into the room with a file in his hands. The tall African American handed Catherine the file. "Doc Robbins finished the autopsy on McKeen. It's pretty straightforward. Shot through the neck and bled out. Greg recovered two bullet fragments in Mallory's makeshift lab. One I'm assuming is from Sara's through and through and the other from McKeen. We'll know for sure which gun fired which bullet when we get the ballistics report from Bobby."

Catherine nodded. "Internal Affairs will be interrogating Pritchard. The DA is prepared to offer a reduced sentence for additional information on any other bad seeds. Warrick, I'd like you to be in the observation room during the interrogation, but you'd better clear with IA first."

"Right. I'm on it," replied Warrick. "I heard that Brass insisted that Mallory not be put into county lock up. Where did they end up putting him?"

"Actually, he is in county lock up, but they created a maximum security isolation cell for him. Word on the streets is that there is a pretty hefty price on his head from the leader of the Knights. He apparently has quite a few connections as far as the drug trafficking business goes. The DA also wants to cut a deal, but Brass is going to the Sheriff Burdick over that one. After what he did to Grissom, Brass wants to make sure that he never sees the sun shine again."

"Amen to that. Okay, I'm on my way to Internal Affairs. I'll catch y'all later. Be sure to call me if there is any change with Grissom, said Warrick as he ambled out the door.

"Nick, I want you and Greg to process the jeep. It's being towed in and should be here any minute. I've got Sara's and Grissom's clothing and will be processing them. Brass will be here soon to interrogate the two men who were at the clinic posing as guards, Sam Baker and Rick Lopez. At least one of us, preferably two of us, should be there in the interrogation with any reports we get from Trace and Tox. Brass will contact me when he's ready. I'll let you know when Brass is ready."

"Got it. I think I saw Greg in the locker room. I'll grab him, and we'll start on the jeep right away."

Catherine sighed as she watched Nick leave and head to the locker room. They had a mountain of evidence to process. She really didn't expect any surprises. It was just a matter of documenting everything so that they could put the bad guys away for a long, long time.

********************************************

It had be four days since Grissom had been admitted into ICU. The doctors were slowly lowering the doses of sedation. The injured man was gradually making signs of returning to consciousness, but the process was excruciating slow for Sara. She noticed slight movements and hints of stirring here and there, but Grissom was mainly unresponsive. They had removed the respirator, and Grissom was now breathing fully on his own. Dr. Taylor was pleased with the EEG readouts which indicated that Grissom's brain function was active despite the injuries he sustained.

The tall brunette stood up and stretched carefully. The stitches in her side were healing but were still a little on the tender side. Sara turned when she heard a slight scuffling of feet behind her. Scott stood at the doorway, giving her a small smile. He wore blue jeans and a loose buttoned down shirt. His left arm was in a sling and his head sported a bandage across his forehead.

"Hey. You're looking good," Sara said with a wide smile. "When your father wakes up, he'll be pleased to see you doing so well. How's it going staying with Greg?"

"Okay, I guess. He just dropped me off on his way to the lab. It's a good thing that we're about the same size. He loaned me some clothes until I can get some of my own things from the clinic, although…," Scott paused, "I'm not really anxious to make it back there anytime soon."

"I see that you have a new pair of hearing aids in," observed Sara. "When did you get those?"

"Um, Catherine knew the otologist who treated my father when he was having trouble with his hearing. She contacted her, and she was able to fit me with a new pair. My hearing loss is minimal, but the aides make things a lot easier. I just was fitted with them before I came by. Dr. Burnett wants to give me an exam to see if my hearing can be corrected surgically. I have an appointment in a couple of days."

A slight movement caught his eye, and his attention was diverted from Sara to the man lying on the hospital bed. Grissom had turned his head to the sound of their voices, and his brow was furled as if he were concentrating on the sounds. Sara made her way quickly to his side and gently picked up his right hand.

"Gil, I'm right here," Sara softly whispered. "Gil, open your eyes for me."

Grissom felt someone take his hand and gently caress his fingers and the back of his hand. He turned his head towards the voice and concentrated on it. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite grasp whose it was. He let out a sigh, and licked his lips. Grissom's eyes remained shut as it was enough at this point to listen to the soft voice speaking directly to him.

A/N: Not a terribly exciting chapter but a necessary transitional one I think. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed. They have kept me going.


	38. Chapter 38

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 38**_

Barely a day and a half after his arrest in the desert of central Nevada, Lucas Mallory sat insolently in Interrogation Room 1, staring at Captain Jim Brass with undisguised hate.

"How long are you going to hold me here," asked Mallory with impatience.

"I'm not inclined to have you moved to another lock up facility at this point. There's information we want from you. Precisely, who helped escape from Folsom, where and who you have been in contact with in the last six months since your escape. I also want to know exactly what you used to experiment on Gil Grissom. What you gave him, the whole regiment. That would be for starters."

Mallory smiled, "You really think I'm going to tell you anything, especially about Grissom? Grissom came to me. Don't you remember? At the warehouse. Yeah, Grissom and I have a long history together. What do you really know about Dr. Gilbert Grissom? Hard for you to believe that he's a hard-core drug addict? What does your evidence tell you?"

Brass didn't give in to Mallory's goading. Instead, he stood up and walked around the table and stood behind the man. Patting Mallory on the shoulder, Brass said softly, "Stop the acting, Lucas. I **know **deep inside you're running scared. You're trapped. I mean, what did you do to piss off the Knights? They were gunnin' for you, man. The way I figure it, your best chance for survival past next week is to cooperate and give up what you know. Otherwise,…" Brass stopped, patting Mallory once or twice on the shoulder and bending down so only Mallory could hear, "there might be some bureaucratic snafu and two or three of the Knights we have in custody might end up in your cell. Why don't you think about that?"

Brass signaled for the guard to take Mallory back to his cell. When the prisoner was gone, Brass turned to the one-way mirror and gave a shrug to those in the observation room.

************************

Conrad Ecklie turned to Catherine Willows, acting supervisor for Grave. "He's not going to give us anything. The evidence..."

"…is just the evidence. Yeah, I know, Conrad. Want to know how many times Grissom has said those very words to me? You know and I know that Gil is innocent in all of this. Pritchard didn't give anything up. We don't even know if McKeen was really dirty. Based on the evidence, he's not. The only thing we have to go was that he set up the safe house and none of those officers who were assigned are talking because they're six feet under. We have eyewitness accounts from Scott and Jones that Grissom shot McKeen in defense of Sara. Both Mallory and Pritchard both say the opposite."

Conrad sighed, "The DA wants to move on this and file charges."

"File what charges and against whom? We're still investigating."

"Against Gil. Catherine, you knew that was coming, and you know what charges. Do you have anything solid on McKeen? We have Scott's and Jones' word. Who's to say that what they're saying is just to protect Grissom? Mallory and Pritchard both say that Grissom shot McKeen execution style. It's their word against Jones and Scott. We know from ballistics that Grissom fired the weapon that killed McKeen and that McKeen was facing away from Grissom. McKeen didn't have a chance. You know, Catherine, Grave shouldn't even be on this case. I don't know why I let you talk me into letting Grave handle it. Any further evidence your guys uncover has to be beyond reproach. You know that, don't you?" explained Ecklie.

Catherine eyed the man next to her impatiently. "Conrad, you don't have to give me chapter and verse. Whose side are you on anyway? Look, I understand, and the team understands what's at stake, okay. Just keep the DA and Sheriff Burdick off our backs and let us do our jobs. We're doing the best we can with what we've got, so cut us a break, will ya?" huffed Catherine as she left the observation room, slamming the door behind her.

Assistant Director rolled his eyes and mumbled to himself, "That's what I thought I was doing."

**************************************

Sheriff Burdick entered Jim Brass's office without so much as a knock. "What's the hold-up with the arrest warrants for Grissom and Sidle? And why, pray tell, is Daniel Pritchard still in lock up? He hasn't been formally charged and he could sue our asses for false imprisonment."

"Sheriff, the Grissom's and Sidle's cases are still under investigation. Pritchard is still in lock up because of the eye witness accounts from Dr. Ken Jones and Scott Jones."

"Scott Jones? You mean Grissom, don't you?" asked the sheriff.

"No, I mean Scott Jones. He was adopted by Dr. Jones when he was five, "said Brass wearily. "Look, Sheriff, there's nothing to charge Sara with."

"What about conspiracy? Surely she had to know what Grissom was into. They were lovers, for God's sake."

"Are," Brass said with mock seriousness.

Brass continued, "Look, do you really want to arrest Grissom now with his life hanging in the balance while he's in the hospital? He has a right to be questioned, doesn't he? We arrest him now, it goes on public record and there's no turning back. He hasn't even regained consciousness. Do you, Sheriff, really want that? That opens a whole other can of worms- like every case that Grissom has ever investigated. Sheriff, you can't honestly believe that the evidence Grave has uncovered is real, that it wasn't planted?"

The sheriff paced back and forth in front of Brass's desk. Angrily, he spat, "Stranger things have happened, Captain Brass."

"No! This is Gil Grissom we're talking about. I'll admit that Gil's way of handling some investigations is a little outside the box, but he's a quirky scientist, for God's sake. His idea of getting a high is going over to New York, New York and riding the roller coaster a few dozen times. Sheriff, think about it, really."

The sheriff rolled his eyes and stared at Jim Brass. Finally, he replied, "Fine. Grissom's team has more time to find what they can find."

Brass leaned back against his chair and replied, "Okay, how much time? What are you going to tell the DA?"

"Just…Just get Grissom's team to get going on this. I'll…I'll speak to the DA. Get them to hold off. I'll talk to Maddie Klein. She and Grissom go way back," said Burdick as he waved Brass off impatiently, slamming the office door after him..

Brass gave a smirk as the door shut with a loud bang. "Maddie Klein. I forgot about her," said Brass to himself with a smile.

************************************

An hour before shift started, Catherine asked Greg, Nick, and Warrick to meet her in Grissom's office. As the men filed into the office, Brass followed them in and shut the door, making sure the blinds to the office were closed.

Catherine leaned with her back against the front of the desk with her arms folded in front of her, facing the team.

"Guys, looks like we'll be probably pulling doubles for a while. The DA wants to press charges…" Catherine began, but was interrupted by Greg.

"That's a good thing, right? I mean, Mallory, Pritchard, and Mallory's guards are all down in lock-up," said Greg, eager to get this whole mess taken care of.

"Greg, no, the charges are to be filed against Grissom…and possibly Sara," Catherine said.

"Catherine, you're kidding, right? The DA can't be serious," exclaimed Nick.

Looks of disbelief and indignation crossed the faces of all three men as they looked from on to the other.

Warrick turned to Brass, who was standing behind them. "I know what the evidence seems to point out, but has the DA considered that the evidence may have all been planted?"

Brass replied, "Right now, that's what the evidence is telling us. We don't have any hard evidence to charge Pritchard. We're going to need to release him soon. As for Mallory, he's in isolation both for his protection and because of his priors. We're holding Lopez and Baker on kidnapping charges because of the evidence recovered from the warehouse. We really need to interview each of them first. Then we can go from there."

Catherine continued, "We have plenty of players here. There are bound to be cracks in their stories. We just have to find them by dividing and conquering. That's why I called you guys all here. We need to start with everyone we have in custody. I've got Henry doing tox panels on Grissom, Sara, and all our players. Greg, I want you checking out everything on Pritchard, including who he hangs with in the department, bank accounts, etc. In fact, I want you to also investigate McKeen also, the whole nine yards. Jim is arranging for the warrant for probable cause through IA. We will be finishing up with his interview. Warrick, you and Brass will take on Lopez and Baker. Find out who their contacts are with the Knights and what they've been doing the last year. Nick, I want you to finish processing the jeep and all the evidence from the clinic. Get all the trace to Hodges ASAP and high priority. Oh, and Nick, I also want you to help Vartann with Dr. Ken Jones' interview. Greg and Warrick, both of you will interview Scott. Sophia will be conducting eyewitness interviews with the clinic's staff. I'm going to go over Grissom's townhouse again."

Warrick cleared his throat, "Should we also be processing Sara's apartment since the DA is considering possible charges?"

Catherine looked at each of the investigators sitting in front of her and gave a half smile, "Some trained investigators we are. Sara hasn't lived in that apartment for over a year now. When we processed the townhouse, I think we assumed that Sara occasionally spent time there. None of us really caught on when Sara asked me to get her some clean clothes, did we? She asked me to go to the townhouse. I don't even think she realized it At any rate, I will be going to the hospital later. Sara will also needed to be interviewed and I also need to let her know that she is under investigation. She won't be able to return to the townhouse at least until it has been cleared as a crime scene."

***************************

Faint murmurings penetrated the darkness that surrounded him as he was gradually becoming more aware of his surroundings. Grissom heard a quiet steady beeping sifting through the haze. The sound was familiar._ A heart monitor. I'm attached to a heart monitor…hospital…but where?_ Memories of being in the clinic infirmary flashed before him. The murmurings gradually became louder, and he turned his head towards the sounds. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place how he knew it. Furling his brow, he concentrated on the whispers.

He heard his name gently spoken, urging him to climb out of the darkness. Grissom attempted to reach out to that whisper. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, but he slit them open anyway. The room was dimly lit, but the light still stung. Quickly, he closed his eyes and tried again. The pain eased, and he tried again with a sigh. This time Grissom was able to keep his eyes partially opened. Everything was fuzzy, and he blinked several times to focus on the face that appeared before him. It was familiar, someone he should know, but he was too tired to figure out the puzzle. He just stared silently at the face, hoping that it would just come to him.

A tired Sara Sidle noticed Grissom's slight stirrings. Dr. Taylor had urged her to continue talking and touching him, even if he remained unresponsive. He assured her that somehow Grissom would sense and feel her presence. Sara stepped closer to the bed, and gently grasped Grissom's hand.

"Hey, Gilbert, wake up. Open those blue eyes of yours and look at me," she urged.

Grissom slowly turned his head towards her and cracked open his eyes. Wincing, he quickly shut them again. The man let out a small sigh and tried again, this time keeping them open. He blinked several times at her, but no sign of recognition crossed his face. Sara kept moving and talking to him, hoping that her voice would jar his memory.

"Hey, there you are. You had me scared, you know that?" she said softly with a smile.

Grissom continued to silently stare at her. Undeterred, Sara asked, a little louder, "Would you like something to drink?"

Not waiting for a response that didn't come, Sara reached over to the bedside tray and poured a cup of water and held the straw to Grissom's lips. His eyes never left her as she held to straw up to him. Gratefully, he lifted his head slightly off the pillow and drank some water. Wincing slightly from the faint pounding in his head, he felt the cool welcome sensation of water going down his parched throat. Swallowing, he let his head fall back on the pillow, never letting his eyes waver from the young woman before him.

Flashes of memory of the woman emerged before Grissom as he continued to look at her. He smiled slightly and then relaxed back against the pillow, closing his eyes as exhaustion pulled him back under.

Two hours later, Dr. Taylor came in to check on his patient. Sara was asleep on the cot tucked in the corner near Grissom's bed, and the doctor smiled, glad to see that she was resting. The good doctor had been able to surgically set Grissom's abused arm two days ago when he had been taken off the respirator. There was still swelling to contend with so a cast would have to wait. Dr. Taylor examined Grissom's chart, and then proceeded to lower the blanket and lift the gown covering his patient. He gently probed the man's abdominal wound and was satisfied the wound was healing without a trace of infection. Gently covering his patient back up, the doctor was slightly startled to see Grissom's dark blue eyes staring back at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Dr. Taylor said with a smile. "Do you remember me? I treated you about 3 or 4 weeks ago. You've been run through the mill since then, I see. How do you feel?"

Grissom simply stared at the doctor. This man seemed vaguely familiar, like he had known him a long time ago, but he couldn't remember. Trying to remember who this man was, Grissom looked away with confusion on his face.

Dr. Taylor cocked his eyebrow and studied his patient for a moment. Grissom was obviously ill at ease, but the doctor gave him a small smile.

"It's okay. You're probably feeling a little hazy. You've been heavily sedated since you've been here- kind of a drug-induced coma. We just wanted your body to get a little stronger before we woke you up. You don't have to say anything all right? Just give me a nod or shake your head for yes or no, okay?"

Taylor wasn't sure how much his patient would remember of his ordeal so chose his words carefully. If Grissom didn't remember his dependence on the drugs Mallory had given him, Taylor didn't want that information weighing on the man's mind until the time was right, whenever that was.

Grissom regarded the doctor briefly and then slowly nodded his head.

"All right. Let's start with your head. You sustained a pretty good concussion and a nice gash on the side of your forehead. Does your head hurt?"

Looking away from the doctor, Grissom took a few seconds to think and sighed. Then he slowly nodded his head.

"How about dizziness?"

Again Grissom nodded his head. Turning his head to the doctor, Grissom turned his gaze to his left arm that was encased in a soft cast and elevated on a stack of pillows, and then looked back at the doctor. Finally, he returned his gaze to his injured arm.

Sighing and cocking his head at the man lying in the bed, Dr. Taylor asked, "About your arm? Well, obviously someone doesn't respect my work. I set your left wrist previously when it was fractured. When you came in a few days ago, it looked like someone tried to run you left arm through a meat grinder. Crushed your wrist bones all to hell. Your ulna and radius are fractured in 3 places. I was able to operate on your wrist and arm a couple of days ago- had to wait until the swelling calmed down a bit. Right now, your left arm is being held together with series of screws and bolts. When the swelling goes down further, we should be able to cast it so that the arm and wrist will be protected."

The memory of his previous stay at Desert Palm suddenly flooded through him, and Grissom recognized the doctor. His voice came out barely in a whisper, "Thank you Dr. Taylor."

The doctor smiled widely, "So you can talk. It took you a moment to remember me, didn't it?"

Grissom gave the doctor a nod, and Dr. Taylor continued, "Not unusual. You do have a concussion and, coupled with the sedation, you may be experiencing gaps in your memory. Let's see what you do remember. What's your full name?"

"Gibert Arthur Grissom"

"Okay, can you tell me when you were born?"

"August 17, 1956"

"Great! So far you're batting a thousand."

"How old are you?"

Grissom furled his brow, momentarily confused by the question. "I…I'm not sure. I think…"

Grissom's blood pressure was starting to rise, and the doctor laid a calming hand on the man's leg. "It's okay. It'll come back to you. Don't worry about it. You're bound to have a few gaps here and there, but I'm confident as you heal, the memories will come back. You'll probably get flashes of memory come at you that seemingly don't connect to anything. Just your brain telling you that it's trying to remember."

Grissom looked towards the window and nodded. As he felt the haziness slowly recede, pain was starting to creep into the picture.

Dr. Taylor continued, "Tell me, are you in much pain other than your head? If that arm hasn't started to hurt, it's going to make its presence felt soon. Any other aches or pains?"

Grissom took a minute to reply and then whispered tightly as if the mentioning of any pain had opened the floodgates, " Hur..hurts to breathe…Arm aches…My head is starting to pound now. My abdomen…starting to hurt."

Taylor wrinkled his brow. Taking note of the beads of sweat that had started forming on Grissom's forehead and the sudden rigidity of Grissom's body, pain was definitely making its presence known. Taylor had no doubt that part of the headache was the withdrawal symptoms re-asserting themselves. Picking up Grissom's chart, he made note of his observations.

"Grissom, it's not surprising that it hurts to breathe. You have broken ribs on both sides. Don't know if you remember, but you also sustained a gunshot to your abdomen at close range. The bullet did quite a bit of damage, but you should heal just fine. Look, I'm ordering morphine to take care of the pain. I'll administer the first shot as soon as I note it on your chart. It should…" said Dr. Taylor.

"No…no…don't want any "medication," interrupted Grissom desperately as the memory of being injected with drugs again and again passed before him. "I'll…I'll handle the pain…don..don't want any shots, needles."

Dr. Taylor looked at Grissom with consternation. Normally, he would try to acquiesce with a patient's request against pain medication, but in this case, he knew that the pain Grissom was experiencing would escalate. Sedating him would only delay the evitable, so they were going to have to try to control the pain somehow. The pain would cause his blood pressure to rise and compromise the healing of his injuries. His patient's eyes were starting to develop a wild look to them. Dr. Taylor needed to calm Grissom down.

"Okay, Gil. No shots, all right. I just need you to calm down or the pain will get worse, and it's not doing your blood pressure any good either. What..what if I put you on some oral medication? It won't be as effective, but I think you might be able to control the pain somewhat. We can also try cold packs. No shots okay?" said the doctor in a calming voice.

Grissom nodded his head in agreement. Shutting his eyes, he tried to take shallow breaths to calm down. Taking deep breaths at this point was out of the question. He heard Dr. Taylor quietly leave the room and return minutes later.

"Grissom, here I would like you to take these," the doctor said quietly as to not wake the still sleeping Sara.

Grissom opened his eyes and tried to sit up, only to gasp slightly, and sink back against the pillows. Dr. Taylor quickly raised the bed so that Grissom's head and torso were slightly elevated.

"Better?" asked the doctor.

"Yeah, much better. Thank you," was the quiet reply. Grissom eyed the pills in small paper cup that the doctor held in his hand. "What are you giving me?"

"I have Demerol to give you. It should help you with the pain. It won't take the pain completely away, but it will take the edge off. The side-effects are minimal. They're not going to knock you out, but they may make you a little sleepy."

Dr. Taylor handed Grissom the medication and watched him take the painkillers. Demerol was not the doctor's first choice. The painkillers were not usually recommended for patients who were suffering from drug addiction, but given the level of pain that Grissom would likely suffer, the doctor reluctantly prescribed the medication. Satisfied that the patient had swallowed the Demerol, Dr. Taylor made a note on Grissom's chart. He would make it a point to speak with the nurses to check on Grissom frequently to make sure the pain was not overwhelming and to notify him of any other symptoms such as nausea or spasms, sure signs that the withdrawal was re-asserting itself.

Dr. Taylor watched Grissom settle himself down against the pillow and followed his gaze towards where Sara was still asleep on the cot in the corner.

"She's been here since you were admitted. She'll be glad to see that you're awake," commented the doctor.

Grissom regarded her for a moment and then looked back up at Dr. Taylor. "Um…How..how is she?" asked Grissom, his stare returning to the sleeping woman on the cot.

"Healing very nicely from what I understand," replied the doctor. Seeing the puzzled expression on Grissom's face, the doctor quickly added, "I'm not her attending. Dr. Evans is. He treated her when she was in emergency, the same night you came in. She had a rather deep laceration across her side from a bullet graze. Suffered some blood loss but she's doing okay now. She's probably due to get those stitches out soon."

Grissom turned his gaze back to the doctor. "She's been here the whole time?" The soft murmuring of voices came back to him, and Grissom knew that she had been talking to him, urging him to wake up.

"Mostly. Others have been here spelling her. Your co-workers, I believe, and a young man who says he's your son," commented Dr. Taylor.

"My son?...but he…I had a son," asked Grissom trying to absorb what the doctor had just told him.

"Hey, it'll come back to you. Give it time," soothed the doctor. "I think the Demerol is starting to kick in a little. Get some more rest, and when you wake up, things will probably be clearer to you."

Grissom settled back against the pillows and sighed. Looking up at the ceiling, he let his eyes slowly close and gradually drifted off into a troubled sleep.

_A/N: Okay, I apologize for inadvertently lying to y'all. I realized that there loose ends in the case that needed to be resolved while Grissom recovered and that the evidence against him had to be dealt with….so as a result I really don't know exactly how many more chapters this will take. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me thus far._


	39. Chapter 39

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 39**_

Dr. Taylor tapped his desk with his pencil and stared at the folder before him. The results of Grissom's tox panels came back from the crime lab. Grissom had been given a combination of Benzodiazepine, barbiturates, and heroin. The combination of these drugs had been injected into Grissom continually for almost two weeks without let up. Based on an interview with Dr. Ken Jones, which was included in the report, Grissom had developed a high tolerance to the drug cocktail, so that higher and higher doses had been required to achieve the same hallucinogenic effects. Shaking his head, the doctor wasn't sure how to proceed in treating his patient. His physical injuries he could treat, but drug dependency was not his field of expertise. The physical addiction was complicating the healing process of those injuries.

A knock at his door brought him out of his reverie. He was expecting the man on the other side of the door.

"Come," Dr. Taylor called out.

Jim Brass opened the door and stepped into the office, quietly shutting the door behind him. Dr. Taylor waved the police captain to a chair directly across from him.

"I'm glad that you could make it here so quickly. I have looked over this report you sent on Grissom. Based on what I'm reading here, it's a wonder he didn't overdose. Captain Brass, I'll be perfectly frank with you. This is definitely not my area of expertise. I can recommend a number of physicians who are more knowledgeable about safely weaning a patient from drug addiction, but really, the person you want treating Grissom is Dr. Ken Jones."

"Yeah, Dr. Taylor, I figured as much. Right now, Dr. Jones is facing a number of charges. However, in light of the number of patients he has helped in the past through the Nevada Treatment Center for Addictions, I think that we can work it so that he can be used as a consultant in Grissom's case. The District Attorney's office is working on a deal."

The homicide detective couldn't share with Dr. Taylor the details of the arrangement the district attorney's office was trying to work out, but Maddie Klein was in the thick of things. Brass was hoping that he would be able to bring Dr. Jones to Desert Palm, under police escort, in a day or so.

"Do you have any idea when that will be? Right now Grissom is being held together with a few bolts, screws, wires, and sutures. I have him on Demerol, but he really needs a more effective medication to deal with the pain. I'm afraid that if we use anything stronger, it will only deepen his body's cravings. He's pretty much refusing anything in the form of a needle. The Demerol barely has him hanging on."

"We're working on it, doctor. These things take time, and, before you say anything, yes, I know, Grissom needs to get the help sooner than later. Dr. Taylor, what I need from you is a written statement that the best person to assist in Gil Grissom's treatment is Dr. Jones."

Nodding, Dr. Taylor changed the subject, "I understand that there may be charges filed against Grissom? I've heard that there's an investigation underway that my patient has been hiding a drug addiction problem for some time. Is that true, Captain Brass?"

Jim Brass smiled, "Dr. Taylor, I'm sorry that I can't comment on an ongoing investigation, but I do appreciate your insights as far as Dr. Jones goes."

Dr. Taylor stood up to follow Brass out of the office. "Captain, I want to say something about my patient. When I first treated Grissom some weeks ago, there was no indication of any kind of drug use. I do not recall any needle track marks on his arms or body at the time. This time around, however, his arms show definite needle mark tracks. They're fading, but they're there. In addition to that, I have treated other patients who have suffered from drug addiction. Dr. Grissom is the first patient I've had with a physical addiction to drugs try to refuse any kind pain medication for his injuries. Usually, it's the first and only thing a drug addict will care about."

Brass stopped dead in his tracks. Why didn't they think to interview Dr. Taylor about when he had first treated Grissom? Brass gave the doctor a wide grin.

"You just may have given us the break we needed to clear his name, Doc. I will get a warrant for Grissom's previous records from when you first treated him. You should have the results of any blood tests included in that file, right?"

"Why yes, Captain Brass, we do have those records. I can turn them over to you, if you wish."

Brass just shook his head. "No, Dr. Taylor, these records need to be obtained through proper channels. The records have to be subpoenaed in order to admissible in court. Please expect to officially turn those records over sometime today."

The doctor nodded his understanding and then the police detective asked, "Has there been any progress on his amnesia? Do you have any idea whether his memory loss is permanent?"

Dr. Taylor shrugged his shoulders. "His progress has been mixed. He remembers who he is and knows he is in the hospital, but he remembers almost nothing of the recent events that landed him here in the first place. He has been experiencing flashbacks in the form of night terrors, but doesn't remember them when he wakes. Captain Brass, if you'll excuse me, I do need to continue with my rounds. Please keep me informed about Jones, won't you?"

"Sure thing, Doc. In the meantime, I think I'll go up and see our patient…see if I can jog that memory of his," said Brass with a smile.

************************************

Catherine walked down the quiet halls of Desert Palm. She made her way past the nurses' station, nodding and smiling at the matronly nurse who nodded back in return as Catherine continued down the hall towards Grissom's room. As she approached the entryway, Catherine peeked in. Sara was in a chair next to Grissom's bed, grasping his uninjured hand as if to comfort him.

Catherine paused at the door, observing the occupants of the room. Each member of the team had taken turns in visiting their injured supervisor since he had been admitted to Desert Palm, but he had usually been asleep. On the rare occasion that Grissom was awake, he was silent, hardly acknowledging the people in the room. It seemed that Sara was the only one he responded to, but even his reactions to her were guarded and strained.

Grissom appeared asleep, but he wasn't resting easily. The man's arms and legs seemed to be twitching slightly and a soft moan could be heard escaping from his lips. The bruising on his face was starting to fade and the soft cast on his arm had been replaced with a hard plaster one.

Smiling, Catherine tiptoed in and asked softly, "Hey, how's it going?"

Smiling back, Sara whispered back, "Okay, I guess. He just fell asleep."

Nodding, Catherine noted the sheen of sweat lining Grissom's forehead and face. The senior CSI motioned for Sara to come out into the hall, and the two women quietly left the room.

Glancing back at Grissom and then back at Sara, Catherine looked at Sara with concern, not really sure how to proceed. She was to meet Brass here in Grissom's room where they could both face Sara together.

Seeing Catherine's look of concern, Sara asked, "Catherine, what's wrong? What do you have to tell me?"

"Sara, I..um…don't know how to tell you this, but I…I mean Jim and I wanted to tell you before…" stalled Catherine.

"Catherine, tell me what?" asked Sara, irritation creeping into her voice.

"What Catherine is trying to tell you, Sara, is that there is an investigation going on against Grissom, and you are also implicated," said Brass, as he stepped up behind Catherine.

Giving Brass a puzzled look, not quite believing what she was hearing, Sara looked back and forth between the two investigators. "I…I…don't understand. What investigation? An investigation against Grissom? For what?"

"Sara, evidence was uncovered that indicated Grissom was contacted by Mallory some six to eight months ago-soon after he escaped from Folsom. It appears from the records we recovered that Grissom and Mallory actually joined together as partners and purchased several properties," said Catherine.

Taking in the look of consternation on Sara's face, Catherine continued, "From the records, evidence, and a couple of witnesses, Grissom had partnered up with Mallory and was trafficking in drugs. According to Mallory and members of the Knights, what went down at the warehouse was a drug deal gone bad. It is assumed that when Grissom realized that he was being double-crossed and that you had followed him, he tried to get you out of there."

"Catherine? Jim? You can't possibly believe this evidence, do you? You can't possibly be giving credence to anything Mallory or any member of the Knights. They're all criminals! Besides what would be his motivation?" Sara said incredulously.

Looking at Brass and then at Sara, Catherine spoke softly and cautiously, "It would seem that Grissom may have had a problem with drugs for awhile now….that his encounter with Mallory either intensified his cravings or …."

"Seriously? You seriously think that Grissom was addicted before this whole thing started at the warehouse? What the hell, Catherine? What possibly would make you think that?" Sara said fiercely, her anger flashing in her eyes.

Catherine closed her eyes momentarily, hoping that what she would say next would not send the young woman before her over the edge. "Um…Sara…when this "evidence" was uncovered, a warrant was issued for a search of the townhouse. Nick and I processed the townhouse, and…"

"You…and…Nick… processed… the… townhouse. For what, Catherine? What did you guys hope to find?" ground out Sara.

"Sara, you have to understand that it was either that or we pass the case to Days or Swing. We weren't about to do that. Just hear me out, okay? Catherine said patiently.

Sara folded her arms and stood taller. "Okay, explain away."

"When we processed the townhouse, we didn't know what we were looking for. We were looking for evidence that would confirm or deny the evidence we already had. Sara, in the study, we found, behind some books, used syringes and vials of pcp, ecstasy, and heroin. I was sure that this stuff was planted, but Mandy id'd both your prints and Grissom's prints on the syringes. Also, DNA found on the needles matched the both of you. The assumption is that Griss was into this stuff for some time, and that he introduced you to his habit."

With a low growl, Sara hissed, "Do you believe this Catherine? Jim?"

Brass held up his hands in an effort to calm Sara down. "Look kiddo, the team just is following the evidence. You know that's what they're doing. We all know that somehow Mallory, the Knights or McKeen planted and manipulated evidence. We just have to find it. To that end, I think that we have the first break in this whole mess," relayed Brass with a small smile.

"Really? What have you found out? I haven't heard anything new from the lab," Catherine said, looking at Brass with eagerness.

The police detective shared the conversation he had with Dr. Taylor, which brought wide smiles from both women.

Taking a deep breath and looking from Brass to Sara, then Catherine added, "You also need to know that you are being investigated for conspiracy, but with confirmation of this new evidence, I'm sure that we will be able to clear the charges."

Sara was speechless as she shook her head in disbelief. This just couldn't be happening.

"And, oh, Sara? You can't go back to the townhouse anytime soon. It's now a crime scene," Catherine said quickly, wincing as she said it.

Sara clamped her jaw shut and worked her jaw back and forth. With her eyes blazing, Sara glared at her two friends.

"I…can't…go…back….to…the…townhouse. Catherine, I need a place to live. Gil insisted that I move in…..," Sara faltered.

Brass cleared his throat and said softly, "Sara, we know. Catherine has arranged for you to…."

"Jim, that's a nice sentiment and everything, but isn't it a conflict of interest for me to be staying with an investigator on a case against Grissom and me," interrupted Sara.

"Well, yes, it is. However, if a private citizen offered you a place to stay, then it's not illegal, now is it?" said Catherine with a glint in her eyes.

"What private citizen? Catherine, what are you talking about?" asked Sara suspiciously.

"Um…Sam has offered to let you stay at the Rampart until this is all over," Catherine said in a low voice.

"Sam, as in Sam Braun…as in your father? Catherine, I ca…can't accept," stammered Sara.

" Look, Sam heard what happened and offered. Sara, I didn't contact him. He contacted me. If you have a better suggestion, I'm all ears. I suppose we could always call Lady Heather...," suggested Catherine with a straight face.

Sara rolled her eyes and held up her hands, "Okay, okay, you win."

"Now that we have that settled, how is Gil?" Brass inquired, craning his neck to sneak a peek at his friend.

"Just fell asleep," said Sara softly. "He's remembering bits and pieces and starting to put things together, but it's been slow. It has been confusing for him. The withdrawal is making things difficult. He can remember Rachel and Scott as a baby, but for some reason, anything recent doesn't seem to connect." Sara drew in a shaky breath as her emotions were starting to get the best of her.

"Hey, Sara, he'll remember," Brass tried to reassure her. "Dr. Taylor seems to think that all this memory loss is temporary. It'll all work out. Just be patient, okay?"

Sara gave him a half-smile and nodded. "C'mon in. Just once, I'd like to catch a break with this whole thing. Maybe if he wakes and sees you two, it might jog something. Scott is due any minute, too. I'm sure that he would like to know what's going on with what might be happening with Grissom."

"Has Gil seen and talked to Scott? Does he remember who he is?" asked Catherine.

Sara shook her head. "They've seen each other and talked, but Gil doesn't have a clue who he is. He…um…doesn't remember about us either. He doesn't realize that Scott is alive. He's not even sure what year it is. I'm trying to help him fill in the gaps as he remembers, but there are times when he can't tell whether what he remembers is real, dream, or nightmare."

A little puzzled, Brass had to ask, "Sara, he doesn't remember the relationship between the two of you, but he's connected with you? How is that working out?"

Sara shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "When he first woke up, it was while Dr. Taylor was examining his wounds. The doctor told him that I had been with him nonstop. Dr. Taylor seems to think that my talking to him while he was unconscious helped to build the bridge for him to regain consciousness. He has asked about us, but I want him to remember on his own, rather to fill his head with my impression of our time together. C'mon, let's see if we can spark a memory or two."

Both Brass and Catherine followed Sara into the semi-dark room. Though he had been taken off the respirator, Grissom was still receiving oxygen through a nasal capsula. At the sound of shuffling of shoes into the room, he cracked his eyes open and looked at his visitors. A brief spark of recognition crossed his face but then faded away.

Grissom tried to sit up a little straighter in the bed but bit back a gasp as sharp pains raced across his middle. Sara walked over and reached over to press the button that would raise the bed.

"Better?" she asked.

Grissom nodded, "Thanks. That helps."

Sinking his head back against the pillows, he shut his eyes briefly to ride out the latest wave of dizziness and nausea.

"Grissom? Hey, Gil," whispered Sara.

Grissom swallowed, "I'm okay. Just a little dizzy, that's all," he murmured.

"Shall I call the nurse? You're about due for your meds, anyway."

"No, I'm…I'm…really okay. I don't like the way the Demerol makes me feel. I'd rather have the pain," the man said tightly.

Looking up at the strawberry-blonde woman and the man in a jacket and tie beside her, Grissom stared at them knowing that he should know who there were but couldn't quite grasp how he knew them. Grissom concentrated on the familiar faces, trying to conjure up some connection on how he might know them.

"Hey, Gil. Glad to see that you're awake. You look a little better than the last time I saw you," Catherine said tentatively as she stepped forward.

"Thank you. I'm…I'm sorry…Um…I know that I should know who you are. You are familiar, but I… I can't remember," said Grissom as he looked away with embarrassment.

Looking back at Brass and then at Sara, Catherine hurriedly said, "Catherine, and it's okay. I'm sure that it will come back to you. You've been through a lot. We work together. We're on the same team."

Grissom nodded and turned back to his visitors, " Yes, at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, right? Sara told me." Turning to Brass, Grissom continued, "And you…we work together also?"

"Yeah, Buddy. We do. Jim Brass. Do you remember anything at all?"

Grissom shook his head slowly. "Nothing I can put my finger on. I have flashes of memory of both of you but nothing to connect them together….Jim and Catherine… I'll try to remember your names next time you come."

Sara took note of the slight tremors starting in Grissom's right hand as he took in a shaky breath.

"Hey, Griss…I..um..I'm going to check on those meds. I know that you said that you were okay, but you need to stay ahead of the pain," Sara said as she reached over and gently grasped his hand briefly.

Grissom shut his eyes and nodded. He felt Sara's hand leave his and heard the quick retreat of footsteps. Clenching the sheet with his fist, he tried to control the increasing tremors and the waves of pain that were starting to invade his consciousness.

Brass touched Catherine on the shoulder. Giving Grissom a look of concern, Brass motioned that they should leave. Catherine nodded.

Touching Grissom gently on his arm, Catherine softly whispered, "Gil, Jim and I, we're going to leave now, but we'll be back soon, okay?"

Grissom continued to keep his eyes shut but gave a slight nod to indicate that he had heard. Letting out a sigh of relief after hearing them leave, Grissom relaxed while still trying to keep the tremors in check.

****************************

Lucas Mallory sat in his cell busily planning what his next move might be. He had already been surreptitiously contacted by the Knights, a pretty tricky proposition considering he was in isolation and had no contact with any other prisoners. His guards were even handpicked so the fact that the Knights were able to contact him was a small miracle indeed. The Knights had promised him his freedom in exchange for keeping his mouth shut and in keeping up with the story of his partnership with Grissom. He was all too happy to do so.

His first interview with Jim Brass had given Mallory some insight. First was that his cousin was good as dead when he secured his freedom. Lucas would make sure that Cousin Kenny would suffer a long and painful death.

Second, Grissom was still alive, but was suffering from complications from his physical injuries and his body's addiction. The doctors must be at a loss at how to treat him if they wanted his notes. Mallory was glad that he had hidden the notes when he and Grissom were in the outcropping. It would be a guessing game in treating the man. Even if Kenny were allowed to treat Grissom, he didn't have the notes that Mallory had made. He would be guessing which drugs that Mallory had given him and in what dosages. Lucas smiled at the thought of getting to Grissom when the Knights were able to somehow break him out. No, he was not finished with his dear friend.

Lucas Mallory smiled to himself. He just needed to be patient. Grissom wasn't going anywhere, and, for Mallory, he had all the time in the world to make his plans. The Knights would come through for him because Mallory was much more valuable alive than dead.

A/N: Another chapter in. This chapter was a hard one to get through for some reason, but I think it works out okay. Keep those thoughts coming.

becky


	40. Chapter 40

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 40**_

Dr. Ken Jones was escorted to Desert Palm Hospital under the guard of two Las Vegas Police Department officers handpicked by Captain Jim Brass. The guards were there mainly for the man's protection despite the fact there were charges pending. Dr. Jones knew the precarious position he was in. Lucas would try to find a way to make Jones pay for choosing to help Grissom and for cooperating with the LVPD.

As he carefully perused the file open before him, Jones pursed his lips in deep thought. The doctor examined the tox panels the crime lab had given to Dr. Taylor. He compared the results to those of the blood tests that Taylor had ordered when Grissom was first admitted when he was initially shot. Except for a low level of Sumatriptan, Grissom's blood tests came back as negative. Both Taylor and Jones were not concerned about the Sumatriptan as the patient was prone to migraines and probably had experienced a migraine a day or two before the shooting. It was obvious that the introduction of illegal drugs into Grissom's system occurred after his shooting.

Jones was tempted to suggest that a treatment of ibogaine, which he had used in the past for his patients addicted to cocaine and heroin. The use of this drug to counteract the addictions was not without its problems, and coupled with the seriousness of Grissom's injuries, made Jones want to rethink the best and effective way to treat Grissom.

Looking up at Dr. Taylor, Jones shook his head. "I'd like to prescribe more than the Demerol that you're giving him. It's probably not doing much as far as helping him to control the withdrawal and the pain. Did the crime lab send any notes or pages about dosages, schedules, and his reaction to the dosages?"

Taylor shook his head," The only thing they sent over was the results that you're looking at. I tried to convince Grissom to let us give him morphine or something stronger. He was adamant that he not be given anything in the form of a needle. It's like he's deathly afraid of them."

Jones cocked his eyebrows and nodded. "Understandable," mumbled Dr. Jones. He mentally made a note to talk to Catherine Willows or Captain Brass about going through the evidence collected.

"Well, let's go see our patient, shall we?" Jones said, closing the folder and rising from his seat in Taylor's office.

"Okay. Listen, are these guys going to be following you everywhere you go?" asked Taylor, eyeing the two officers outside his office door.

"Yeah," said Jones wearily, "they're my new best friends."

****************************************

Gil Grissom silently gazed out the window, the soft sounds of _Vivaldi's Sonata in G_ floated through the hospital room. The music did much to help him keep his mind off the tremors that were wracking his body and the constant pounding in his head. Clenching his teeth tightly, the man leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the calming tones of the sonata. Sara had brought several recordings ranging from opera to jazz and a CD player in the hopes that the music would jog his memory while trying to soothe his jagged nerves. The music was soothing but did little to help him piece together the bits of memory that would surface.

"Gil…are you awake?" a soft voice broke through. Opening his eyes, Grissom saw Dr. Taylor standing near his chair with another gentleman behind him. Resentment coursed through him. _God, someone else I should remember. Will the parade never end? I just want to be left alone._

Taylor noted the brief flash of anger that crossed his patient's face, and, just as quickly, it was gone. Sighing, his patient lowered his eyes and shook his head.

"Listening to Vivaldi, I see," said Jones, trying to gauge Grissom's mood.

"Sonata in G, actually," said Grissom shakily while giving the newcomer a look of curiosity.

"I enjoy Vivaldi very much. I believe that Rachel enjoyed Vivaldi too," said Jones nonchalantly.

Grissom's head shot up, and he stared up at the man before him. "You knew Rachel? How did you know her? She's dead, you know."

"Yes, Grissom, I know. She died a while ago…of a virus," the man said softly.

Grissom gave the newcomer a puzzled look. "No. Sh…she died in a car explosion, along with my son."

Studying the man, Grissom added, "Who are you? What do you know about Rachel?"

"Grissom, this Dr. Ken Jones…Um…he's here to help you piece together your memories. He's an expert in working with patients…um… in your situation," said Taylor.

Dr. Taylor then turned to his colleague, "I think I'll leave the two of you alone for awhile."

Handing Grissom's chart to Jones, Taylor touched his patient on the shoulder, "Gil, try not to give Dr. Jones too hard of a time, will you?"

To Dr. Jones, Dr. Taylor commented lightly, "A word of caution, he's great at mental chess. Don't let him get the best of you."

"Yeah, right Doc. I barely remember who I am," said Grissom drily as he crossed his right arm across his chest to minimize the tremors.

With that comment, Taylor gave both men a smirk and made his way out the door.

"Well, you look much better than when I saw you last. How are you feeling now?," asked Jones.

Grissom sighed. He really didn't want to this all over again. "I've already talked to a psychiatrist, a counselor, and a neurologist. So which are you? Are you going to tell me that everything will come back to me and things will be okay? Are you going to tell me that these damn tremors are going to stop and that the constant pounding in my head will go away?"

Jones pulled up a chair, sat down across from Grissom, and regarded the man sitting before him. "I can help you with the tremors, headaches, dizziness, and nausea, but you have to trust me. I can also tell you about Rachel. Gil, do you know what year it is? Do you know how old you are at this moment?"

Grissom stared back at the man seated across from him. "They tell me that it's 2008. That would make me 52. I honestly don't know how old I feel."

Then something clicked in the back of his mind. Grissom's eyes widened and he spoke in a quiet tone, "I remember. I remember that you tried to help me before…before I came here."

Grissom took a deep, ragged breath as the pain in his ribs reminded him that he shouldn't. "Ra…Rachel and Scott weren't killed in that explosion. She and the baby both weren't in that car. Mallory…Mallory took them away, but…" Grissom stopped. He couldn't remember the exact circumstances of why his family was spared.

Turning to Jones, Grissom looked at the doctor. "You…you took care of Rachel and the baby. They stayed with you and became your family, not mine. You loved her, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes I did. I loved her very much," said Ken Jones, the sadness creeping into his voice, but then the doctor sat up a little straighter, "but she always loved you, Gil. She never stopped loving you."

Suddenly memories of Rachel crashed over Grissom, and he looked away from Jones. Grissom swallowed hard. The grief of losing his family washed over him again as it had almost twenty years ago. The pain was fresh and raw.

"But she didn't die in the car explosion. She survived. She survived, and our son survived," whispered Grissom desperately. "You took care of her and raised my son. This had to do with Lucas Mallory. He…I…"

Grissom shook his head and shut his eyes, trying to make sense of this information. Realization made him re-open his eyes. Reaching up, Grissom grabbed Jones by his collar and with a trembling hand, shook the doctor, his mind reeling with distorted memories.

"What happened to my son? Where is Scott?" Grissom spat out. Waves of pain from his abdominal wounds forced Grissom to release the doctor and sink back in his chair, gasping. He ran a sweaty palm over his face and waited for Jones to answer him.

Ken Jones sat calmly back in his chair, quietly observing the range of emotions raging through the man sitting across from him. The doctor waited for Grissom to regain control of himself and said in a low voice, "Scott is alive and well. Gil, he's been here off and on since you were admitted. Scott has been worried about you. The times he has come to see you, you haven't been conscious. He helped me to help you leave the clinic. Those memories will come back to you. I know that you've heard that over and over again, but I know what I'm talking about, okay?"

"Scott…he's about twenty, isn't he? He was at the clinic. I met him. I remember seeing him, but I don't recall anything else, just flashes," whispered Grissom.

Holding his right arm across his side to lessen the pain and shaking, the man shakily stood up to make his way back to the bed. He felt the sudden need to lie down, not wanting to collapse on the floor. Jones immediately stood up and helped Grissom back into the bed. Jones pulled the blanket over Grissom and then adjusted the bed to a semi-reclining position.

"Gil, how's that? Has the dizziness passed?"

Grissom nodded weakly and rasped, "I…I don't want him to see me like this. I want to be able to hold it together."

"Yes, I understand perfectly, but in order to do that, you're going to have to allow us to give something stronger than Demerol. I can consult with Dr. Taylor and we can give you something that will ease the pain and the withdrawal symptoms. Until your body adequately heals from your wounds and you gain a little strength, we're going to have to placate the withdrawal until you are strong enough to work through the symptoms," explained Jones.

"Wh…what do you suggest? I just want to feel some modicum of control," Grissom asked in a shaky voice.

"Let me consult with Dr. Taylor with what we can use. There will be side effects with anything that we use, but we can keep it all to a minimum. Before we try to administer any new meds, how about we go over with you what the side effects are so that there won't be any surprises. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Yes…yes, I think that I can live with that," was the tight reply.

"Okay, good. I'm going to hunt down Taylor, and we'll discuss what we can give you. I'll be back in a while. Hang in there. Relief is coming," encouraged Jones.

"Not…not going anywhere," stammered Grissom.

***********************************

Sara and Scott emerged from the elevator to find Dr. Jones and Dr. Taylor deep in conversation next to the nurses' station. Quickening their pace, they approached the two doctors.

"Dr. Jones, it's good to see you again. I see that Captain Brass has given you an escort," smiled Sara warmly, noting Officer Mitchell and his partner a few feet away. Both officers acknowledged Sara's presence with a slight nod.

Jones lifted his head, his eyes lighting up in seeing Scott and Sara. Scott looked like he was faring well. The stitches from the gash in his head had been removed and, though his right arm was in a sling, appeared to be healing just fine from the ordeal with Mallory. The young man appeared well-rested and there was a sparkle in the young man's eyes that he had never noticed.

Turning his attention to Sara, Jones said with a smile, "My new buddies. They keep me from getting lonely. You both look like you're doing well. How is your side doing, Sara?"

"Dr. Evans just took out the stitches. It's still a little tender, but I'm doing fine. Thanks."

"And you Scott? How are you faring? The shoulder is healing okay?" asked Jones.

"Yes, it's doing fine. Dr. Taylor says that I need to use the sling for another week or two. I'm doing a little physical therapy to get some of the range of motion back and strength, but other than that, it doesn't bother me much. Thanks for asking," Scott informed Jones.

Sara glanced at the chart in Jones' hands and asked, "Have you seen Gil? How did he seem to you?"

Jones noted her concern and tried to reassure her. "Sara, he's doing surprisingly well, all things considered. Dr. Taylor has gotten me up to speed on Grissom's condition. It's starting to come back to him, but at the moment, I think the priority will be for him to heal from his physical wounds before we try to treat the physical addiction. When he does go through the physical withdrawal, it's going to take a toll on him. We need him to be as strong as possible."

Sara nodded, "Dr. Taylor, did you go in and see him, too? How did he seem? What do you think?"

Taylor jotted some final notes on Grissom's chart and gave his full attention to the young woman.

"We both know that the Demerol has him barely hanging on. As a result, I think that the recovery from his wounds has been impeded by the fact that he is trying to keep the withdrawal in check. Dr. Jones has been able to talk him into stronger pain meds that will help him with the pain which will allow him to rest easier. In turn, that should speed up his physical recovery. We were just discussing what meds we thought Grissom would agree to take. We want to keep the side effects of the meds to a minimum."

Sara nodded her understanding and asked, "Is he up for some company? I think that Scott here is anxious to talk to his father."

Dr. Jones glanced at Dr. Taylor and then back to Sara and Scott. "Sara, I think that it would be okay for you see him. However, Scott, I think it might be a good idea to wait. He remembers learning that you and your mother did not die in the explosion, but he doesn't recall meeting you recently. He…um…he wants to be more together."

Scott started to protest, but Sara intervened, putting a calming hand on the young man's shoulder. "Scott, Dr. Jones is probably right. Your dad is a pretty private person. I'm sure that he's anxious to see you too, but I'm also sure that he doesn't want you to see him as "broken," if you know what I mean."

Reluctantly, Scott agreed and watched Sara as she walked down the hall and entered his father's room. Sighing, the young man turned to Jones who was quietly studying him.

"So…um…how have you been? I haven't seen you since you were brought in last week. Are you getting along okay? Where are you staying?" asked Jones, curious to find out how Scott was faring in new surroundings.

"I'm doing okay. Greg Sanders, he's a CSI on Grissom's team, offered me a place to stay for a while. We're about the same size so he loaned me some of his clothes. I guess he really admires him. Anyway, he has told me lots of things about him so that I could maybe know him a little."

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of them. Dr. Taylor sensing the tension, dismissed himself to allow the two men some time to themselves.

Watching the retreating back of Dr. Taylor, Scott cleared his throat, "So..um …how have you been? I understand that you are in a safe house and that you are working out something so that you will probably be in the witness protection program."

"Yeah, Captain Brass has made sure that I'm being well taken care of. I'm consulting with Dr. Taylor the best treatment for Grissom. They've kept me under wraps, otherwise, I would have tried to see you or contact you some way."

Scott looked down and contemplated what he wanted to say, the silence becoming awkward once again.

"You know, I…I don't even know what I should call you. I've always known that you weren't my father even though you raised me. Now that I have a chance to actually know my real father, I don't know what….I think that maybe, that maybe I should be angry with you…that I should hate you. You're part of the reason that my parents didn't end up together, yet I know how much you cared for my mother," Scott said slowly.

Ken Jones looked deeply into the dark blue eyes of the young man standing before him. "Scott, my intention was never to hurt you or your mother. It's a long story, but I was caught up in a situation where I didn't have a choice. Your mother taught me a lot of things. I didn't even know who Grissom was until Lucas had escaped from prison. Lucas dumped you and your mother on my doorstep when you were just a few months old. Lucas told me that he was trying to protect her from an abusive husband, and she never told me. I just knew that she never stopped loving your father. I…I never questioned that what Lucas told me wasn't the truth…maybe I didn't want to know the truth. I hope that you will forgive me."

Scott looked away, not sure how to respond. "I just need time to think about things, okay? I appreciate that you are willing to help my father. I've learned a lot about him from his team. They've made sure that I have everything that I need. It seems that he's…he's more than just their boss."

"Scott, I understand. Take all the time you need. Ms. Willows and Captain Brass are expecting me at the crime lab. I will see you later. Um….Captain Brass will know how to get a hold of me if you need anything," said Jones softly touching Scott on the arm.

Scott nodded and turned to watch Dr. Jones enter the elevator with his two escorts. Grissom's son walked down the hall and sat down in one of the chairs outside of Grissom's room to wait for Sara to come out and share with him his father's condition.

*********************************************

Greg Sanders poured coffee into two mugs and then headed to the layout room. Catherine had called a meeting of the team to go over the newest evidence in Grissom's case. Jim Brass was meeting Ken Jones over at PD, and then they were to join the team in the layout room. Nick and Warrick had combed the clinic and the alcove for any evidence of the notes Jones had mentioned without any luck.

Catherine looked up as Greg entered the room and was handed a steaming mug of coffee. The senior CSI thanked her younger colleague and sipped the coffee appreciatively. Photos of the clinic and of the overhang crime scene lay spread out on the table. Catherine put her mug down, picked up a magnifying glass and proceeded to examine the photos of the alcove closely.

"What are you looking for, Catherine?" asked Greg inquisitively.

"Ken Jones said that he was sure that he saw Mallory put a sheaf of papers in the medical bag that we recovered when Mallory was arrested. Mallory must have somehow stashed the notes somewhere. I was thinking that he might have hidden them up in the overhang. He had to have known that he really couldn't have gotten away. I thought that I might be able to see any place in the alcove where the dirt is disturbed. It doesn't look like it from the photos. When Brass and Jones get here, let's see if we can track all the places that bag went once it left the clinic. We probably could use Scott here as well. Greg, Scott is at the hospital with Sara, isn't he?"

"I dropped him off there before I came here. He was hoping to see Griss awake."

"I'll ask Jim if he can pick him up and bring him over. By the way, how are the living arrangements going, Greg?" asked Catherine with a smile.

Greg shrugged his shoulders and gave her a half-grin, "A lot like living with Grissom, I suppose, except without all the bugs. Scott's like a walking encyclopedia. He's very much into botany, especially desert flora. I've introduced him to heavy metal, rap, and hip-hop. I figured that being isolated in that clinic for so many years had him culturally deprived. I don't think it's his cup of tea- he's much more into the classical. He's very well-read- like I said a younger version of the Bugman, but without the bugs."

"Give him time, Greg. I'm sure that after Griss recovers, he'll have Junior able to determine timelines using blow flies," interjected Nick as he stepped into the room.

The Texan grinned widely at younger CSI. They had both "adopted" Grissom's son and were impressed with the young man's wide range of knowledge.

Greg smiled back and then stared at the photos that Catherine was examining. "You know, Mallory didn't have the medical bag until Scott brought it up to the overhang. It was in the helicopter with us when we landed up there. Griss had Scott take it with them in case they needed it for Sara. I seem to recall that Jones loaded the bag up with bottles of water and had given Scott a "doctored" needle. Jones was alone in the helicopter with the bag when Mallory asked for it."

"Yes, he was alone with the bag, but why ask about them if he was the one who had hidden them? We wouldn't have known about them in the first place. The only time Mallory could have disposed of those notes would have had to be when Scott brought the bag up to the overhang. I think we need to interview both Scott and Jones- to verify whether those notes were in the bag in the first place when Jones was loading up the bag in the helicopter and whether Mallory could have somehow disposed of them when Scott or Grissom weren't looking. It's entirely possible that those notes were disposed of when Scott was trying to help his father and wasn't paying that close of attention to Mallory," Catherine reasoned.

"After we talk to Jones and Scott, maybe one or two of us should revisit the overhang," suggested Nick.

"I'll go back up there. Perhaps we should revisit the clinic. I know Days helped us process the area, but maybe a fresh set of eyes could come up additional evidence," suggested Greg.

"That's a good idea. Greg, I think it might be a good idea to take Scott up there. He knew that place inside and out. He could probably tell you what's missing or anything that might be out of place," added Catherine.

All heads turned as Brass rapped his knuckles on the doorframe of the layout room. "Is this a private party or can anyone crash it? I have Dr. Jones here with me, and I asked Warrick to bring Scott to lab," asked Brass as he led Jones into the room.

"Come on in. The party is just getting started," invited Catherine. "Dr. Jones, if you don't remember who I am, I'm Catherine Willows. This is Greg Sanders and Nick Stokes. If you don't remember, Greg was on the helicopter with us. The other member of our team should be here any minute, and that's Warrick Brown.

Jones reached over and shook hands with everyone. "Yes, I remember all of you from being out in the desert. I'm glad that none of you were injured because of my cousin. I hope that I can redeem myself by helping you with the investigation and help you get your supervisor back whole."

"Before we go any further with trying to find these notes, obviously it is important that we find them so that we have the proof that Grissom was given these drugs under duress, but how important are these notes for Grissom's recovery?" asked Catherine.

"It isn't actually essential that you find them. It just makes it a lot easier if I know exactly the combination of substances Lucas gave him. Some of the drugs, cocaine and heroin, for example, can be treated with the same counteractive drugs, but, depending how much PCP and Ecstasy he was also given, those counteractive drugs could exacerbate the symptoms."

"Well, let's get started then. We were just discussing the possibilities of where those notes you asked about could have gone. Dr. Jones, were those notes in the medical bag when you loaded it up with water?"

Jones stepped further into the room and placing both hands on the layout table. He leaned against the table, trying to recall what was in the bag. While the doctor was thinking, Nick bent down and placed a cardboard box on the layout table.

"Okay, let me see, I put six bottles of water in that bag. It also had several syringes that were labeled with both Grissom's and Sara's names," Jones paused momentarily, trying to recall the contents of the bag. "There were the usual items in a medical bag such as bandages, analgesics, sterile wipes, swabs, etc. I remember taking out some of the items and also preparing a syringe for Grissom that Scott could administer to help stabilize the withdrawal. I figured that the tremors and nausea were increasing."

Impatiently, Greg interrupted his recitation, "Yeah, we get all that, but do you recall the notebook or the notes?"

Dr. Jones lifted his eyes to Greg and then smiled, "Yes, yes, the notes were tucked under the syringes. It really didn't register what was under the syringes, but I can see a sheaf of papers lying flat at the bottom of the bag."

Nick then opened the box he had put on the table. Lifting the medical bag out of the box, the Texan set the bag in front of the doctor.

"We've gone through this bag and even checked it for hidden compartments. We didn't find any sheaf of papers. That means that Mallory stashed those papers in the overhang somewhere," reasoned Warrick.

Spreading out the contents of the medical bag minus the syringes, which were sent to the trace lab, the group examined the medical paraphernalia.

Absently fingering the swabs and bandages, Ken Jones mused, "He must have hidden them in that overhang, but it doesn't make sense for him to do that unless…unless he felt that he needed some kind of insurance from the Knights. I didn't really track exactly what was in those notes – just that he kept meticulous notes on what he was giving Grissom. He must have figured that you would never have let him get away."

"So what are you trying to say, doctor?" asked Brass.

"I really didn't ever go through the whole sheaf of papers. I just assumed that what was contained in there was everything that dealt with what Lucas was giving Grissom and the effects. I think that maybe Lucas included other information in there. I'm sure that he tried to plan a way for him to be protected if he was able to escape again."

Brass straightened up, a premonition of foreboding overtaking him. "I think that the security detail concerning Mallory needs to be beefed up. He's in isolation now, but I think that further measures need to be instituted before he can get any messages out," said Brass as he turned to head back to PD and County Lock-up.

"We need to send a team up there and reprocess the overhang. Any volunteers before I assign someone to go up there and reprocess?" asked Catherine.

"We'll all go, and we'll take Scott with us. The more eyes the better. Scott can help us with what went down up there. He also might be able to help us with finding other incriminating evidence at the clinic," volunteered Warrick.

A/N: I apologize for the long time between posts. Life is very busy right now with the ending of school. I should be getting a little more time as the school year winds down. I will be traveling later this week as I am attending my daughter's graduation from college in Kentucky. Just to give you a heads up, the next chapter will definitely be delayed as this one was. Please leave a review as it makes me happy. As always, all mistakes are my own.


	41. Chapter 41

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 41**_

Lucas Mallory smiled in spite of himself. He was able to get a message out to the Knights. Nearly twenty years in prison had taught him ways of getting messages in and out of an isolation cell. He had information they wanted about possible leaks within their own organization. The Knights would only get that information if they could aid in his escape and at the same time deliver Grissom back into his hands. He had patiently used his time in prison to build connections with various drug cartels. His efforts had paid off so far, and he would use those connections and the information he knew once again to escape and build a new comfortable life.

First, though, he had business to take care of. Vengeance against Grissom was still his number one priority. He wanted to see Grissom brought down and ruined. Mallory wasn't sure how the man was doing, but he did know that Grissom was still alive and recovering at Desert Palm Hospital. Captain Brass had told him as much.

The rattle of keys at his cell door brought him out of his reverie. As the door swung open, Mallory was greeted by the one of the guards assigned to his detail.

"Up, Mallory, time for the exercise court."

Mallory slowly stood up and stretched. He stepped out of the cell and let the two guards in the walkway shackle his wrists and ankles together with the long length of chain. When the prisoner was secured, the two guards each held onto the Mallory's arms as they escorted him down the row of cells and through another corridor, leading them to the enclosed exercise yard. It was approximately the size of half of a basketball court with four high cement walls.

Pushing Mallory into the cement courtyard, the two guards unlocked the shackles, taking the chains with them, and then shut the heavy metal door with a rather large bang.

Mallory rubbed his wrists ruefully and proceeded to jog around the court. It would not be good for him if he didn't stay in good physical shape.

*********************************

An hour after Mallory had been allowed in the exercise yard, Jim Brass entered his office at the police department. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that wouldn't go away. His many years in law enforcement told him that something was going down and his nerves were on high alert. Leaving the meeting with Jones and Grissom's team at the crime lab solidified those feelings. The police detective, upon leaving the crime lab, had immediately contacted County Lockup to check on Mallory. They had reported that everything was routine and that Mallory was back in his cell from the exercise yard. Everything seemed to be under control. Still, Brass couldn't help but feel that all hell was about the break loose. He shook his head, wondering if the last couple of weeks with too little sleep and too much worry were making him paranoid. Closing his door wearily, he sank down in his office chair and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Taking out his cordless razor, he quickly shaved off his 5 o'clock shadow and then slipped the razor back in the drawer. Opening Grissom's case file, Brass scanned through the transcripts of the interviews with Mallory, Scott, and Jones. Catherine was getting the team together to go back to the desert crime scene and sweep the area again. Catherine promised to notify Brass when they were ready to leave. Checking his watch, Brass impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk. The police detective decided that he would stay behind and re-interrogate both Baker and Lopez. Vartann had assigned a detail to keep Pritchard under surveillance. The chirping of his cell phone brought him out of his ponderings and noted "Willows" on the call ID.

Flipping his phone open, Brass snapped into the speaker, "It's about time, Catherine. I was beginning to think…"

"Jim," interrupted Catherine, "we won't be all going back up to Goldfield. I'm sending only Nick, Greg, and Scott up, but they're not leaving for at least a couple of hours. Something's come up."

"Catherine, what do you mean something's come up?"

"We've got a 419 out in Henderson. I'm going to need Nick and Greg with the preliminary processing and gathering of evidence. In fact, I think it might be a good idea that you accompany us. I'm surprised that Vartann hasn't called you."

"Why? What's going on, Cath?" as that feeling in the pit of his stomach started to creep back.

"The 419 is Officer Daniel Pritchard."

******************************************

Though it had only been barely 24 hours since Grissom had agreed to the change in his medication, the result had been a dramatic improvement in his physical recovery. The patient's strength was returning, making Grissom anxious to leave the hospital. Though his abdomen was tender from the gunshot wound and broken ribs, he was able to move about without sharp pain taking his breath away. His headaches continued, but they had been reduced to a dull ache just below the surface. The new meds had lessened the withdrawal, masking his body's need for the drugs. Grissom still suffered from the tremors, but they weren't as pronounced.

Dr. Taylor picked up Grissom's chart from the slot just outside of his patient's room. He smiled at the progress that Grissom was making. Amazing what one day and a change in meds can make in a patient's recovery. The doctor strolled into Grissom's room and paused to observe his patient seated in a wheelchair gazing out the window. Sara sat next to him as the soft sounds of jazz flowed through the room. Both of them had their backs to the door and so did not notice the doctor's entrance. Grissom's right hand was wrapped tightly around Sara's left. The young woman was speaking softly to him, but he seemed not to hear her as he continued to stare out the window.

Gil Grissom studied the desert landscape from the third floor window of his hospital room. Though Las Vegas was a metropolitan area, his sight took in the tall barren range of mountains west of the city, and he saw little of the civilization spread out before him. A mixture of emotions flowed through him. The woman beside him was speaking in a low quiet soothing voice, and he shut his eyes, taking comfort in her tone. _Sara, her name was Sara._ He instinctively knew her, felt an unspoken connection to this young woman, but he could remember little else. Strange that he should feel so comfortable with her, yet at the same time remembering as if it were yesterday the loss of Rachel. The hollowness he felt burned inside him and guilt crept its way into him, making him feel as though he had somehow abandoned and turned his back on his young wife who had died some ten years ago.

Sighing, Grissom turned his head and smiled weakly at the slender brunette sitting beside him. "Thank you," he hesitated, not sure what he was trying to say…"for being here. I…just wish that I could give you more."

Sara smiled back and whispered softly, "Gil, it will come. You just have to be patient. I'll be here for whatever happens."

Turning back to the window, Grissom nodded slightly and returned his gaze towards to the desert landscape, seemingly lost in thought. Sara gently pulled her hand from Grissom's grasp and slowly stood up, noticing for the first time that Dr. Taylor had entered the room.

"Good afternoon Doc. Gil seems to feel a little better today. The new meds are helping,"

Dr. Taylor nodded in agreement. Stepping further into the room, the doctor grinned at Sara.

"And how are you doing, Ms. Sidle? Are you getting enough rest yourself?"

"I'm doing okay. Better now that Gil's pain is under control. He's getting his strength back. The physical therapist and nurses have him up walking and doing some careful stretching."

"More like torture, if you ask me," came the dry reply from the man seated in the wheelchair. Grissom didn't bother to look up at the newest occupant in the room, but instead continued his gaze out the window.

Wrinkling his brow, Dr. Taylor said with a slight smirk, "I see that you are feeling better, but I'm not sure your mood has improved much."

Grissom cocked his head slightly and turned towards the doctor. "Feels good to get out of that bed. The nurses have had me walk around some. Nice to know my legs still work."

"Any dizziness or nausea when they had you stand up or walk?"

"Initially, but it eventually went away."

Taylor nodded, "Nothing unusual there. You've been flat on your back for awhile. I would have been surprised if you hadn't felt a little lightheaded. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Better…I'm still battling the shaking but it's manageable. I'm able to keep food down and the pounding in my head is down to a dull roar."

The doctor made some notes on Grissom's chart. Scratching his head slightly, the doctor looked up from the chart and asked his patient, "Has Dr. Jones been in to see you today?"

Grissom shook his head.

"Hmmmm….he should be in sometime today. I'm seeing here on your chart that you haven't been sleeping much. Want to tell me what's going there? "

"Just restless, I guess," said Grissom wearily as he leaned back in his wheelchair, shutting his eyes.

"Gil," Sara said softly, "you should tell him. It's important. Your doctor needs to know."

Grissom instantly opened his eyes and shot Sara a quick look, a flash of anger crossed his face and then disappeared.

"I…I…haven't been sleeping well…nightmares. Um…when I wake up, I can't remember what the dream was about, just that I felt helpless, powerless. It's nothing I can't handle."

Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. "Grissom, I think I could use something cold to drink. Can I get you anything?"

Grissom shook his head and gave her a wan smile. "Thanks, though."

"Right. I'll be back in a little while. I could a little fresh air."

Both Grissom and Dr. Taylor watched the slender brunette stroll out the door. The doctor turned back to his patient.

"You know, you might cut her a break. She cares about you," Taylor said softly.

Grissom was tempted to tell the doctor to mind his own business but thought better of it. Instead, he replied, "I just want to remember and get my life back. I…I …feel that I'm in limbo here. Listen, when can I get out of here. Maybe a change of scenery, seeing where I live, where I work will jog something loose. I'm starting to feel a little confined here."

The doctor nodded his understanding. "Some things don't change. As I recall, when I treated you here a few weeks ago, you were quite anxious to leave. I would like to consult with Dr. Jones about your release. He should be in shortly. He'll want to monitor your physical recovery closely and start your physical withdrawal. The "cold turkey" approach will cause more problems than its worth. That all means that I doubt he'll want you on "out-patient" status. Just hang in there and be patient."

Grissom swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the desert landscape. If he heard one more person telling him to be patient, he thought he might just explode. Clenching his fists with frustration, Grissom merely nodded.

"Grissom, what can you remember? I know that you can't remember why you're here, but what about your life in Las Vegas?" asked the doctor.

"Everything is a blank after coming to Las Vegas. I have isolated memories of crime scenes and working on cases, but there isn't any continuity. I see members of the team. I see their faces, but it's like just still photographs," said Grissom slowly and then looked up at the doctor.

"I'm familiar with the possible repercussions of my injuries and the fallout of what drug dependency can do with the human brain. I have a hard time believing that I'm really addicted to all these substances that Dr. Jones has listed out. I'm aware of that I'm being investigated and what I'm being investigated for. I just wish that I could fill in the holes," said Grissom in a slightly impatient tone.

"Gil, I wish that we could fill in those holes, but your memories have to be what you remember and can't be influenced by outside resources. I think it would be easy to fill the holes for you, but we run into danger of confabulation. We want to make sure that what you're remembering are real memories and not ones that are mixed up with imagination or false impressions," Dr. Taylor explained to his patient.

"Griss, that's why when you ask questions about us, I'm reluctant to answer. My memories can't become yours. You need to be able to distinguish between what's real and what is imagined. You won't be able to tell the difference if you rely on others to fill in those holes," Sara interjected as she stepped back into the room.

"You weren't gone very long," commented Grissom.

Sara shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't snap Dr. Taylor's head off."

Dr. Taylor jogged some final notes on Grissom's chart. "I think I can handle your guy here. He's all bark, no bite," said the doctor with a grin. Taking a couple of steps towards his patient, Taylor stood next to his patient.

"Gil, I would like to check your sutures. They should be ready to come out in a day or so. As much as you don't want to be back in the bed, I will need you to lay down in the bed. I'm going to start with your head and work my way down, okay?"

Grissom turned the wheelchair to face the doctor, slowly stood up and gingerly got back into the bed with the help of both Sara and the doctor. Grissom quietly acquiesced to the examination.

"Well, Gil, those stitches are about ready to come out. I think we'll give it another day. I'd like to keep you on the IV for another couple of days. You're still getting IV antibiotics and we can administer your pain meds through the IV. When we take the IV out, we'll need to switch to oral meds which won't be as effective in controlling the tremors, cramps, or nausea. I'll discuss all this with Dr. Jones when he comes in."

Grissom relaxed against his pillows as the doctor stood up to leave. The feeling of restlessness was overwhelming him, whether that was because he was tired of being cooped up being in the hospital or because his nerves were on edge because of the physical withdrawal, he couldn't be sure. He only knew that he needed to do something, anything, but to stay in this hospital.

Looking up at Sara, Grissom asked her, " How about we go for a walk? I understand the hospital has a nice arboretum."

Sara gave Grissom a bright smile. "Sure, that sounds nice." She helped the injured man out of the bed and helped him put on the light terrycloth hospital robe. Slowly, they made their way out of the room with Grissom pulling his IV pole beside him.

********************************************************

A/N: My apologies for the long time between posts. Hopefully my next post won't be so long in coming. The school year is ending and final grades are due in a couple of days so hopefully, I will have more time starting Wednesday to write. Life happens….Besides a college graduation to attend (last week), a bridal shower, a high school graduation, and the not unexpected death of a favorite uncle, life has been terribly crazy. Thanks for those have hung in there with me. This chapter was a difficult one as far as Grissom was concerned, but after several attempts, I think I've got him pointed the way I want him to go. Please review. Thanks.


	42. Chapter 42

_**Chapter 42- Journery Through the Past**_

Catherine Willows crouched down next to the still body of Daniel Pritchard. The man had been shot twice in the chest. Looking around the man's modest home in Henderson, the strawberry blonde investigator noticed that everything was neat as a pin. Though the house was a small two-bedroom bungalow, the furnishings were quite fine.

The officer had the latest in electronics from a 90 inch plasma television to the blu-ray player. Watching Assistant Coroner David Phillips check out the body, Catherine waited patiently for Phillips to report his preliminary findings.

"Well, David, do you have a TOD?" asked Catherine.

"From his liver temp, I'd say he was dead 2-3 hours. COD was obviously gunshot wound in the chest, right through the heart. By the size of the entry wound, I'd say he was shot with a 357 Magnum at close range. Looks like a through and through. Exit wound in the back. There are powder marks on his shirt and around the wound. He was dead before he hit the ground. Looking at his hands and condition of the body, there wasn't a sign of a struggle. I'd say that he knew his attacker and probably didn't see this coming," observed Phillips as he pushed up his glasses with the back of his gloved hand.

Catherine nodded in agreement with his assessment. "David, turn his pockets. Let's see if he has anything interesting on his person."

The assistant coroner quickly ran his hands over the Pritchard's body and felt inside each of the man's pockets, pulling them inside out. All the man's pockets were empty.

Catherine stood up, lifted the Nikon camera that had been hanging from her neck, and started taking pictures of the body. Hearing the familiar footsteps of the seasoned police detective, Catherine paused in her picture-taking to observe Jim Brass carefully make his way towards where she was standing. Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Brass cocked his head to one side to stare at Pritchard's body.

"You know, I never did like the sorry son of bitch. He was up to his eyeballs in whatever dirty dealings McKeen was into. Looks like Pritchard was in way over his head. Can't say that I'm sorry that's he dead. It's just too bad the Knights got to him before the DA could offer him a deal. I'm sure that given the right pressure he would have given us the information we needed to clear Gil completely."

Sighing, Brass looked over the furnishings of the house.

"Not bad digs on a patrolman's salary. Guess he knew how to manage his money, hey Catherine?" said Brass dryly.

Nick and Greg entered from the rear of the house. Stopping briefly next to Pritchard's body, Nick glanced down at the body and shook his head with disgust and indicated to his young colleague that he was headed to the kitchen. Greg nodded and turned to follow Nick.

"Found nothing probative in the bedrooms, no drugs, no weapons," reported Greg as he strolled into the kitchen to find Warrick.

Catherine watched as the two investigators continued to work their way through the house. Sighing, she turned to the police detective.

"How much you want to bet that we won't find anything that will lead us to who made the hit or who ordered it," commented Catherine.

"Not a bet that I would likely take, Cath," Brass said drily.

"Jim! Cath! Found something interesting in here," called Warrick.

"Maybe I will have to eat my words," said Catherine.

As they turned to follow the sound of Warrick's voice, he appeared from the entry of the open kitchen area. Holding up a 357 Magnum inside a clear evidence bag, the tall African-American tilted his head to one side. "Looks like I found the murder weapon. I'm sure that you won't be surprised to know that I've already checked for prints, and it has already been wiped clean."

"I'm sure that we won't find any records on that weapon or that it was supposed to be destroyed from a previous case. Warrick, process and run it anyway. Maybe if we're lucky, the perp might have missed something," said Catherine.

"I'm on it," Warrick replied as he returned to the kitchen for another sweep of the room.

"We'll need to finish processing the house before I can send anyone up north. When the preliminary walk through is finished, Nicky and Greg will re-sweep the desert area near the clinic and the clinic itself."

"Catherine, I'd feel better if you sent them up sooner than later. I just have a gut feeling that if we don't get a team up there, any evidence in the re-sweep is somehow going to disappear. I'll go with them."

"This case has really gotten you on edge, hasn't it?"

"I think we're all on edge. Mallory's got more going on than just wanting to get back at Gil for nailing him twenty years ago. He had to have connections to get out of Folsom and to be able to set up all the financial dealings implicating Gil. This guy has information about the Knights they don't want leaked out. The fact that they haven't somehow found a way to kill him in lock up tells me that they're keeping him alive for a reason."

"Okay, Jim. I'll pull Nicky and Greg and send them up to Goldfield. I'll call Ecklie and request some help from Days. Heaven knows, we've covered their asses enough times. It's time they can pay back some," said Catherine as she hit speed dial to get the assistant director of the crime lab.

********************************************

Scott sat in his father's hospital room, waiting patiently for Grissom to return from his session in physical therapy. Sara had suggested that his father might be ready to see him, and Ken Jones had readily agreed. Scott nervously fingered the book he was holding, Thoreau's Walden's Pond. Thinking that it might give them something common to chat about Sara had given him the book from Grissom's private library.

Hearing a shuffling of feet just outside of the door, Scott stood up to face the people who were entering the room. The young man heard the terse voice of his father as Grissom and Sara entered the room, followed closely by James, the physical therapist.

"Really, Sara. I can do this myself!" exclaimed a clearly exasperated Gil Grissom.

"Griss, I just have my hand on your elbow in case you lose your balance. If you would use the cane that James is carrying it really would make things a lot easier."

"I don't need…" Grissom stopped abruptly upon seeing the young man with slightly curly hair staring at him. Grissom was speechless as he gazed upon Scott. A wave of memories flooded over him, and he suddenly felt light-headed.

"Sara…I think I could use your help to sit down," Grissom said weakly as he felt his knees might give way at any minute.

Sara took the cane from James and dismissed him. Quickly grabbing the IV pole and Grissom's good arm at the same time, Sara maneuvered the shell-shocked man to the nearest chair. Sitting heavily down in the chair, Grissom shut his eyes in order to stop the room from spinning.

Scott looked quickly at Sara, pointing towards the door. Sara shook her head at the young man.

Give him a minute. Sara signed to Scott.

Scott nodded and stayed where he was. Meanwhile, Sara crouched down next to Grissom and whispered softly, "Hey, Griss. You okay? You still with me? You remember who this is, don't you?"

Grissom released a deep sigh and opened his deep blue eyes to stare at Sara's dark brown ones.

"I'm okay," he said softly as he took in a deep breath to steady himself.

Looking up at Scott's distressed face, Grissom tried to give him a reassuring smile. In a slightly shaky voice, he whispered softly, "Scott, I'm sorry. I…I just wasn't expecting to see anyone in here. You…you startled me."

Sara continued to stare at Grissom from her crouched position.

"Grissom! You remember Scott? How much? What do you remember? Do you remember meeting Scott?" Sara asked in a rush.

Turning his attention from Scott, Grissom tilted his head to look at the concerned woman before him.

"I…I don't remember everything, but I do recall Scott helping me in a cemetery, in front of a grave. I had fallen, and I was staring, looking at a headstone…" said Grissom as the light-headedness and the initial shock of the memories that had flooded through him subsided. His eyes suddenly had a faraway look to them and his voice became distant.

"I…I saw Rachel's headstone. Scott helped me. I was being chased…someone…others were coming for me and I had to get away. It was dark. The night was warm. I…I was barefoot. Scott put his own socks on my feet to help protect them a little."

Grissom took a shaky breath as the memory of that night crept back into his consciousness. His chest tightened as his heart ached for the loss of his wife. For Grissom, the loss was still fresh as if her death had just occurred. He clenched the fist of his right hand, fighting back the raw emotion of grief.

"I had seen him before, but that night, after seeing…after seeing the headstone, I realized that my boy, Scott, was alive. That he…that you were still alive and not dead. You and your mother did not die in that car explosion," Grissom said in a low voice as he turned his attention to the young man standing near him.

"I thought that all the times I had seen you before were hallucinations or figments of my imagination until that night. You were…are real," Grissom said, shaking his head to loosen the cobwebs that suddenly seem to fill his head.

Scott remained silent, not really sure what to say. He watched his father struggle with the memories of that night and was grateful that, at least, he remembered who he was. Scott looked sideways at Sara, trying to gauge what to do next, but all of Sara's attention was on Grissom.

Sara stood up slowly, reached over to the bed tray, and poured a glass of water for Grissom. Taking a sip, the man let the cool liquid slide down his throat. Taking the glass from Grissom, Sara put it back on the bed tray.

"Griss, what else can you remember from that night? What do you remember about the circumstances of that night/ Do you remember the place where this memory took place? Do you remember why you were being chased?"

"No, Sara. I don't remember anything about where I was or why I was there. All I know is that I needed to get away was overwhelming, or maybe it the need to run to towards something. I don't know."

"Father, those men…" Scott started to say, but a warning look from Sara stopped him.

Swallowing, Scott bit back what he was going to say, but instead confirmed what Grissom had already shared.

"Yes, I helped you to get away. That's how your feet got cut up, running through the desert."

Grissom looked up at his son and continued, "Yes, we ran through the desert. The rocks cut up my feet. The socks helped some but they ended up being a bloody mess. We made it up a wash. Part of it was sandy. I remember that part because it didn't hurt my feet so much." Grissom gave his son a half-grin.

"Do you remember anything else?" asked Scott.

Grissom opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. "I don't know what happened after the wash, where we went, what we did. I only remember what I've told you. I know that you can't tell me anything I can't remember in order to fill in the holes," Grissom said somewhat bitterly.

Silence blanketed the room. Scott regarded his father for a moment and an inspiration formed in his mind.

"Well, since we really aren't supposed to discuss what you can't remember and what you do remember is so limited right now, how about we build some new memories? Who knows? Maybe new memories might trigger some old ones," asked Scott softly, taking a seat across from his father.

Grissom's eyes opened wide in surprise and a smile slowly crossed his face. "I..I'd like that very much. I don't know much about you and you probably don't know a lot about me. I can, at least share with you what I can remember about growing up in Marina Del Rey and about your grandmother."

"It's a deal then. Maybe talking about my mother and about your childhood will trigger something," said Scott, as he settled down in his chair.

Sara smiled softly at the two men as they continued their conversation and picked up her shoulder bag from near the window. "I think that I'm going to go down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. You guys want anything?"

Both men didn't hear Sara as she grinned at them. Their attention at that moment was only on each other and building a relationship that had been denied to them so long ago. Sara felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted, realizing that Grissom had a positive focus that would aid in his recovery.

**************************************

Officer Nate Johns and his partner, Richard Tanner arrived at County Lock-Up for the change of shift. They had just left the locker room and were making their way to through the security doors that would lead them to maximum security and the isolation block. They had only one prisoner, and their orders were explicit that the prisoner was not to have any contact with any other prisoner.

Both guards waited patiently for their identification badges to be verified through the card reader. As the barred gate slid open to allow the guards through, an explosion rocked the building and both men were thrown backwards from the force of the blast. Johns covered his head as plaster fell down from the ceiling. Choking and coughing from the dust swirling around in the air, the guard struggled to his feet and tried to get his bearings. Officer Tanner lay crumpled under debris that had fallen down from the ceiling. Loud klaxons were blasting, signaling an instant lock-down situation. Johns staggered drunkenly over to his partner and reached down to check his partner's pulse. Tanner's pulse was rapid and weak. Checking his partner for injuries, Johns guessed that he had sustained broken ribs and possible internal injuries. Tanner would need immediate medical attention.

The sounds of men shouting and running feet could be heard over the blaring of the alarms. Johns, with his head buzzing from the blast, blinked at the crowd of men marching down the row of cells. Glancing at the open gate, the slightly disoriented guard realized that the mechanism that was supposed to be triggered for the gate to shut was jammed. The approaching men all wore the bright orange jumpsuits issued to prisoners. Reaching for his radio, Johns tried to call for help, but all he could get was static. Squinting through the haze and smoke, he could see the prisoners pushing or dragging three other guards along with them. Moving closer to his injured partner, Johns drew his weapon and held it with both hands as he warily watched the escaped prisoners make their way to his position.

Officer Johns lifted his hands and pointed his weapon towards the crowd. The prisoners stopped and, except for the blasting of the alarms, the shouting and yelling stopped. Three of the prisoners had the weapons of the captured guards and pointed them at Johns.

Johns shouted at the crowd in a voice that belied the terror that he was feeling, his adrenalin taking over, "Gentlemen, I suggest that you drop the weapons and let your hostages go. If you return to your cells, no charges or actions will be brought against you."

One of the armed prisoners, a tall Afro-American with a shaved head named Wilson, shook his head and laughed harshly at Johns.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me. Me and the brothers here are callin' the shots. We got 3 guns to your one. We'll kill your partner there and then you, so little man, just drop your weapon and maybe, just maybe, we'll let you and your friend live."

Johns swallowed hard. Looking down at Tanner, Johns realized that he was in a no-win situation. Tanner needed medical attention and a stand off would delay any medical help that the prisoners might allow.

"Prisoner Wilson, Officer Tanner is injured from the blast. He needs medical attention or he'll die. I'll lower my weapon if you promise that we can get him help."

The tall Afro-American laughed heartily and replied, "You're not in a position to make any demands here. How 'bout my brothers put him out of his misery and then fill you full of holes."

"You do that, I'll take some of you with me," challenged the officer.

"You don't scare us, man. Lower the piece. It's the only chance you have. You have til I count to three," demanded the prisoner in charge.

At the count of one, all three of the armed prisoners cocked their pistols. Johns, sweating and shaking, swallowed hard. Slowly he lowered his weapon, and two other prisoners quickly stepped forward and relieved him of his weapon. Grabbing Johns by his arms, the prisoners pushed the man to where his three other colleagues held.

Wilson signaled two other prisoners to search Johns and Tanner and relieve them of their keys, radios, and cuffs. Tanner's weapon was given to Wilson. Handing the keys to a wiry Hispanic named Cruz, Wilson signaled for him to search through the isolation block for the one prisoner held there.

*****************************************

A/N: Sorry that this chapter was a little short. It was either that or wait another week and have a rather lengthy one. I chose this option. As always please review and let me know what you think. Thanks for hanging in there. beck


	43. Chapter 43

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 43**_

.

Catherine entered the morgue just in time to watch Doc Robbins remove a spent slug from the chest of the now deceased Daniel Pritchard. Dropping the spent bullet with a loud clang in the metal dish that lay next to the body, Robbins gave a satisfied look to the strawberry-blonde investigator.

"Pritchard died of a gunshot wound to the chest, straight through his crooked heart. The second bullet was a through and through. Either bullet would have done the trick. I guess his assailant wanted to make sure he was dead."

"Anything else probative, Doc?" asked Catherine, staring at the body.

"Not really, Catherine. David's initial report indicated that there were no defensive wounds on his hands and knuckles. His body is clean, no bruising or cuts. I can confirm with David's preliminary findings that he probably knew his attacker and was comfortable with him."

Catherine nodded. She hadn't really expected anything to come up but had to check anyway. "Very professional hit. Didn't leave us much to work with. They knew what they were about," she murmured.

Looking up and meeting the coroner's eyes, she asked, "Have you run a tox panel on him?"

Robbins shrugged. "I can if you want. His organs don't show any outward signs of any long term drug use. His tissues look typically healthy for an adult male his age."

"Do me a favor and run one, please."

"Your wish is my command," Robbins said with a smirk, "but what do you hope to find?"

Catherine shrugged, "Not sure. Just playing a hunch. If his tox panels come back similar to the drugs used on Grissom, we may have a connection. According to Henry, there were substances present in Grissom's tox panels that he hadn't seen before and some that are only used in veterinarian practices."

"…and Grissom's body doesn't show evidence of long term drug addiction despite the withdrawal he's going through. Okay, that makes sense."

Just then Catherine's cell phone chirped, and she reached down for her phone and flipped it open.

"Willows," she answered. Her eyes widened as she listened to the information relayed to her. "No, Conrad, Warrick and I will get there asap. You'll have to pull some guys from Swing or Days. Nick and Greg are headed north to the clinic and to the overhang where Mallory was arrested."

Catherine paused, rolling her eyes as she impatiently waited for the assistant director to finish.

"Fine, Conrad. I'll recall them."

Finishing her conversation with the assistant director, Catherine shut her phone.

"Attempted jail break at County Lock-Up. Everything is in chaos down there. I would bet that this has everything to do with Mallory. I gotta go. Let me know about the tox panel."

Robbins nodded as he watched the senior CSI investigator disappear through the double doors. Hopefully, there were not going to be more bodies for his examination table.

*************************

The burly sergeant entered County Lock-up. Everything looked to be secured after the near riot that had taken place. Checking his clipboard and the list of inmates, it looked, after a cursory check, that all the inmates were accounted for. Two inmates had been killed in the melee. The bodies of Todd Wilson and Omar Cruz were taken to the morgue for autopsy. One inmate was being transported to Desert Palm after the doctor from the infirmary made the decision that the injuries to the inmate, Lucas Mallory, were too serious for him to treat with the limited resources available to him.

The wailing of the siren seemed distant to the patient strapped to the stretcher. A voice, low and gentle, was telling him to take it easy and that he would be taken care of. Pain radiated throughout his body but especially his head. He moaned softly as the paramedic continued to check his vitals. The patient tried to open his eyes but found that they were both swollen shut. He licked his lips and tried to find his voice but was too weak from blood loss to utter a sound. A reassuring hand told him to rest easy and that he would be at the hospital soon. The injured man sank back against the pillow and let the darkness overtake him.

As the paramedics unloaded the unconscious patient from the ambulance and rushed him through the double doors of the emergency room entrance of Desert Palm Hospital, the two prison guards from County Lock-Up followed closely behind. The patient was taken immediately to Trauma Room Three where an ER doctor and nurses waited to treat the patient. The two guards followed closely behind not wanting to let their charge out of their sight.

Dr. Stephan Beam, a third-year resident, quickly made a cursory exam of his patient. The nurse gave him up-dated vitals as the doctor ordered x-rays and a MRI of the man's skull. The patient's head seemed to have taken the brunt of a beating as his features were virtually unrecognizable. Glancing up momentarily, the doctor noticed the two officers standing against the wall taking in the scene. The hospital personnel didn't need the distraction of these guards in the room.

Pointing to the guards, Dr. Beam shouted at the nurse who had just entered the room, "Get them out of here. This guy isn't going anywhere. They can stand outside."

The nurse immediately pushed open the door and escorted the men out. Beam turned his attention back to his patient. This guy had suffered major head trauma and likely sustained a skull fracture. He would need emergency surgery to alleviate the pressure of fluids that was pressing on his brain.

*******************************

Dressed in sweats and a T-shirt that Sara had brought for him, Grissom was enjoying the fact that Dr. Taylor had finally ordered the IV taken out. The freedom of not being tethered down to a pole lessened his feeling of confinement. Though the port for the IV remained in his arm for the purposes of administering his pain medication, the fact that he could move about freely did much to brighten his mood. Grissom prowled restlessly in his room, waiting for both Scott and Sara to arrive. They were scheduled to walk through the hospital's arboretum, a daily event that Grissom looked forward to doing every day. Scott's passion for botany was evident, and the older Grissom enjoyed hearing his son's explanations of the different kinds of plants and flora in the arboretum.

Hearing the door swing open, Grissom looked up expecting to see Sara and Scott, but instead in walked two uniformed correctional officers. Blinking his eyes at the officers, he stared hard at the men. The shorter of the two men looked familiar, but Grissom couldn't quite place him. Knowing that he had probably made numerous visits to the various prisons, jails, and lock-ups in the area, it was possible that he had seen or interviewed this guard during an investigation, but instinctively, he drew back. Taking a couple of steps back and away from the men, he eyed them warily. The bed was between him and the officers, and Grissom held onto the bedrail to steady himself.

"What do you want? Why are you here?" asked Grissom in a voice that belied his nervousness. The presence of these men without announcement was somewhat unnerving.

The taller officer, a Afro-American, glanced at his shorter companion, and cleared his throat.

"Mr. Grissom, I'm Officer Tanner. There has been a jail-break at County Lock-Up. Officer Johns and I were sent here to take you to a secure location. We believe that Lucas Mallory may try to get to you here in the hospital."

Grissom backed further away, not relaxing his stance. These men were not who they appeared to be.

" You..your're correctional officers, not LVPD. This isn't your jurisdiction. When did this happen? Why didn't Captain Brass or Detective Vartann come to inform me of this? I…I don't think I believe you," said Grissom, his voice starting to rise.

Officer Johns stepped forward with his hand on his holster. "Grissom, the break happened only a couple of hours ago this afternoon, at the change of shift. Both Brass and Vartann are at the scene trying to get the situation under control. Captain Brass was worried about you and sent us to fetch you."

The voice of Officer Johns sparked a cord with Grissom. He knew that voice. Searching the face of Johns, images of the man popped up in his mind, none of them pleasant.

"I know you. I've seen you before," whispered Grissom, desperately trying to connect where he had seen him.

"Mr. Grissom, we need to take you to a safe place. Time is of the essence."

"Why can't I stay here? Why is time so important?" asked Grissom, trying to stall the guards from coming nearer to him.

Grissom picked up the call button and prepared to press the call button for help.

Tanner stuck out his hand and pointed to the call button, saying sharply, "You don't want to do that. We want to make this as easy as possible without attracting attention. We don't want this Mallory knowing that you have been forewarned of his escaping. Calling a nurse will only draw attention to you.

"Don't take another step or I'll make sure that this room is filled with people," said Grissom in a low growl as he felt a sense of panic set in.

As the men were about take a step forward, the door swung open and a nurse came in with a syringe in her hand.

"Mr. Grissom, it's time for your…"

She stopped abruptly, seeing that her patient was not alone but in the presence of two correctional officers. She was about to question their presence when Tanner grabbed her and pulled her in front of him, placing a broad hand over her mouth.

"Mr. Grissom, put the call button down and step around the bed towards us or, I swear, I'll break her neck," threatened the guard in a low whisper.

Swallowing hard, his eyes wide, Grissom deliberately set the call button down on the bed. The room was starting to spin, and his mouth was suddenly dry.

"Okay…okay…just…just don't hurt her. I..um..I'm coming," said Grissom, holding his hand up and keeping his injured arm close to his body.

Grissom slowly stepped around the bed, keeping his eyes on the frightened nurse and the guard who was holding tightly to her.

"What now?" asked Grissom. A sudden calm seemed to settle over him as he focused on the welfare of the terrified young woman standing before him. "I'll do whatever you want, just…just don't hurt her. Just let her go."

Johns cocked his head with a slight smirk on his face, "What? Compassion from a drug addict? You know, that's unheard of."

"Look, I'll…I'll go with you…do whatever you want. Let her go, and let's just go now," said Grissom with all seriousness. The urgency to leave was strong when he suddenly realized that Sara was due to visit him any minute.

The opening of the door had everyone's heads turning as Ken Jones entered the room, carrying Grissom's chart. The doctor stopped short with a look of shock. Quickly and quietly shutting the door of the room before the occupants of the room noticed the guards outside the door, the doctor took a step in the room as he recognized his cousin.

"Lucas," he whispered, "what…how?" He stopped speaking when his cousin pulled the gun from the holster at his hip.

"This is perfect. A regular little reunion," Mallory said with a wide smile. "I have a score to settle with you, but Grissom and I have unfinished business."

For Ken Jones, Lucas Mallory was the last person he expected to see here in this hospital room with Grissom. Ken Jones was numb, having thought that he would finally be able to move past this forgettable chapter of his life.

"Lucas, don't do this. You'll only make things worse. There are two guards outside the door. There's no way you'll get past them," Jones said, eyeing the gun warily.

"Shut up, Kenny. You're lucky that I don't just shoot you now," ground out Mallory.

Jones clamped his lips tightly and took his eyes off of his cousin and quietly observed the nurse held captive in Tanner's arms and Grissom. Beads of perspirations had started to form across Grissom's forehead and his shaking was noticeably increasing as he stared at Mallory. Glancing down at Grissom's chart, he noted that his patient's medication was due.

Grissom staggered a step back with realization. "Mallory. Lucas Mallory. You and I were together. We were running away from…" Grissom looked down at his feet; the memory of sitting beside Mallory while Mallory drove a jeep on a dirt road and then careening down the side of a steep hillside flashed before him.

"Grissom, do you remember me now? I had been supplying you, giving you what you need, but others came and interfered. Now this darlin' here has some stuff that will keep the pain away," said Mallory softly with a glint in his eye as he waved the gun in the face of the frightened nurse. "I think that you had better take it, don't you? We want you to not be suffering too much when we leave here, do we?"

Turning to the nurse, Mallory ordered "Tanner," in reality, Todd Wilson, to let the nurse go. After releasing the nurse, Mallory pushed the nurse towards Grissom, "Give him his meds before his tremors worsen."

Shaking, she took a step towards her patient.

Grissom continued to stare at the man in uniform as if he were an apparition. Disjointed memories continued to flash in front of him, but he didn't know quite what they meant. He remembered seeing Mallory with a syringe and administering it to him. Was it to help him or was it something else? He was filled with confusion at what was happening.

As the young nurse took a few tentative steps towards Grissom, she suddenly came into focus before him. Seeing her frightened countenance brought him back to the present.

"Hey, it's Jenny, isn't it? It's okay. Just give it to me in my port. They'll not hurt you, I promise," said Grissom gently as he tried to encourage the young woman.

She nodded as she shakily pulled an alcohol wipe from her pocket and wiped the end of the IV port that was still held in place by medical tape on the inside crook of his forearm. Grissom leaned against the end of the bed to steady himself; the pain and tremors had been gradually increasing. Watching Jenny insert the hypodermic into the port, he felt a sense of relief, knowing that the pain and withdrawal would be kept at bay for another 4 to 6 hours.

Grissom looked up at Mallory after Jenny was finished. "Now what?" he said a little shakily as he waited for the meds to take effect.

"We're leaving together. Grissom, you're coming with us."

"What about the guards? Do you think that they'll just step aside and let you take Grissom out of here?" asked Jones incredulously.

"Well, Kenny, that's where you come in," smiled Mallory. Signaling Wilson to stand behind the door, Mallory directed Jenny to re-arrange the furniture so that there was a clear path from the door to the bed. Grabbing his cousin, Mallory pushed the doctor over to stand near Grissom.

"You yell or make a noise, she'll die. You understand me?" threatened Mallory as he stepped towards the two men.

Grissom and Jones nodded reluctantly as Mallory stood in front of them. Both men did not see the gun whip around and catch Grissom's left cheek, sending him crashing to the floor.

As Grissom landed on his injured arm, white stars exploded across his vision as pain shot through his head and arm. Jones was immediately on his knees, helping a gasping Grissom to sit up.

Looking up, Jones exclaimed in a low voice, "What the hell was that for?"

Mallory casually shrugged, "Jenny here needs to have a legitimate reason for those officers to come in here."

Grasping Jenny roughly by her arm, Mallory led her to the door while Wilson held both Grissom and Jones at bay with his weapon.

"You tell the guards out there that the doctor would like them to come in to help move Grissom; that he fell. You got that? If you tell them anything else or anyone else comes in, a whole lot of people are going to get hurt. Wipe that scared look off your face or they'll know for sure something's up," said Mallory as he shoved her towards the door.

Stumbling to the door, Jenny nodded and tried to compose herself. Moments later, the door opened as two LVPD officers and Jenny stepped through the door. Immediately Wilson and Mallory had both officers pushed up against the wall with their hands up. Motioning to Jenny with his gun, Mallory let her know that she was to move over to where Jones was attending to Grissom, who was sitting on the floor.

"What's going…" one of the guards attempted to ask, which prompted Wilson to immediately punch the officer in the kidney.

"Shut up. No one said you could talk," whispered Wilson fiercely.

The officer dropped to his knees gasping. His partner started to turn to the down officer and was immediately jabbed in the back by Mallory.

"Don't or you'll be in a whole lot more pain than your friend," said Mallory. "Both of you are going to strip down to your boxers. Do it and do it quickly."

While Mallory kept his weapon trained on the officers, Wilson quickly had both officers strip to their boxers and then handcuffed and gagged both men. The officers lay face-down prone on the floor.

Wilson quickly changed into one of the police uniforms, finding that it was a bit too small. Mallory quickly did the same, and then stepped over to his cousin.

"Kenny, take one of the sheets off the bed and tear off some strips. Tie up Jenny here nice and tight," ordered Mallory.

Jones quickly did what he was told, laying the frightened nurse on Grissom's hospital bed.

Grissom watched the proceedings silently, gently rubbing his sore cheek with his right hand. The left side of his face felt numb and he had trouble seeing out of his left eye. His left arm and ribs ached, and despite the light-headedness, Grissom didn't feel all that badly. Licking his lips, Grissom asked softly, "Okay now what?"

"Wilson, go get a wheelchair. We're going to wheel you out of here, and Kenny is going to lead us," said Mallory.

A minute later, Wilson returned with a wheelchair, and Jones helped Grissom off the floor and into the chair.

"We're going to head out the service elevators. That way, it will be unlikely that we will be running into anyone who will stop us. Kenny, you'll be pushing Grissom. We'll be on either side of you. Either of you try to be cute, there'll be whole lot of dead people out there, and it'll be your fault. You have your warning," Mallory said with malice.

*****************************************

A/N: I apologize in the long wait in posting. School is finally over and grades are posted. I have some time to myself now. Anyway, this chapter endured several rewrites but I think it came out all right. Thanks in advance for sticking with me on this story and please review and let me know what you think.


	44. Chapter 44

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 44**_

Shifting through the debris left behind from the explosion at County Lock-Up, Catherine Willows and the rest of the graveyard shift carefully picked their way through the row of cells that constituted the isolation block. The two dead inmates lay outside the cell designated for Lucas Mallory. Both men had been beaten beyond recognition. Mallory had survived and had been taken to Desert Palm. He also had been beaten but was in critical condition.

"Jim, it looks like your instincts were right. Something was up with Mallory," commented Catherine as she shifted through the contents of Mallory's cell.

"Yeah, well, at least we know where Mallory is," replied Brass drily. "Still, this doesn't seem right. Something's off. Maybe I'm just being paranoid about this whole business."

Brass paused, then continued, " I've assigned two police officers to be with him at all times. They should be relieving the two correctional officers who rode in the ambulance with him."

"Good. Do you know when those two officers will check back in? I'd like one of the guys to interview them," said Catherine.

"I'll have them get in contact with you or one of the guys as soon as they report back here," said the captain as his phone chirped.

Taking the phone out of his pocket, he answered with a terse, "Brass."

Catherine watched as the police captain's face turned a deep red with anger.

"Are you sure? What do you mean that the inmate who was just brought in wasn't Mallory? Where the hell is he? Better yet, who in the hell is lying in the hospital bed? What do you mean you don't know? Damn it! You'd better find out. Keep me informed- and you'd better have some news for me soon!" ordered an angry Jim Brass.

Watching Brass snap his phone shut, Catherine stared at the police captain with consternation.

"Jim? Did I hear that correctly? What's going on?" asked Catherine.

Shaking his head, Brass bit off each word in a worried tone, "Apparently, when they did a cross-match for Mallory's blood-type, the blood types didn't match for what they have on record. They're checking into it to find out just who's in the ER."

The homicide detective brushed by Catherine and made his way back into the cell block. Assistant coroner David Phillips had just arrived and had just released the bodies for transport.

"David, when you get back to the morgue, run their ten-cards along with the two guards who accompanied "Mallory" to Desert Palm Hospital. I have a feeling that we have two missing inmates and two dead guards," said Brass.

David gave him a questioningly look but nodded nonetheless and headed out.

Catherine, who had followed the detective, grabbed his arm, "Jim, what the hell is going on?"

She paused momentarily when a horrifying thought entered her mind.

"My God, Jim! Grissom…what about Grissom?"

Having the same sudden thought, Brass was quickly on his cell phone to Detective Vartann.

"Hey, it's Jim Brass. Listen, I don't have time to go into all the details, but I want 24-hour guards outside of Grissom's room asap. We have reason to believe that Mallory has escaped."

Nodding his head as if Vartann could see him, Brass went on, "I'll fill you in with more of the details as I find them out, but right now I want Grissom protected. You got that? Now get a detail up there NOW!"

Turning to Catherine, Brass asked the senior investigator, "Let's hope that the detail gets there before Mallory does. Where is Sara? Is she with Grissom?"

Shaking her head, Catherine said, "No, she was going to get some rest and go up to see Gris after he had his late afternoon PT session. I'll give her a call to let her know what's going on. Another set of eyes at the hospital won't hurt."

"I'm going to head over to the hospital right now. I want to check on who's ever in the ER and see if I can get some answers from him. While I'm at it, I will check in with Grissom," said Brass, "Keep me informed of anything you find out here."

"No, the guys will call in any information. I'm coming with you, and you'd better be running with your lights flashing," said Catherine as she hustled over to where Warrick and Nick were examining the remnants of a detonation device to let them know that she was leaving with Brass.

******************************************

Wilson stood over Grissom and quickly hauled the injured man to his feet and unceremoniously dumped him into the wheelchair. A low moan escaped from Grissom as he tried to right himself in the chair.

"Grissom, you okay?" asked Jones quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just dizzy and a little nauseous," groaned Grissom.

Mallory turned to both men. "Remember, no funny business. I'm not in the mood to be playing games. You understand?"

"Kenny, start pushing the chair. Wilson, open the door. Remember, Cousin, the service elevators."

Jones nodded reluctantly and proceeded to push the chair out the open door. He looked up in time to see Sara and Scott emerge from the elevators to the left, deep in conversation. If he turned quickly enough, hopefully, they wouldn't notice them and would be out of Mallory's sights. Making the right hand turn to the service elevators around the corner, they were quickly out of sight of the visitors.

Mallory pressed the elevator door button, the doors immediately slid open and the party of four quickly entered the lift and was gone.

******************************************

Scott and Sara entered the hospital doors together. It was late afternoon, and they had brought with them two bags of Thai food to share with Grissom. The man had lost thirty or so pounds since this whole ordeal had started. Though he had little or no appetite, the meals served him at the hospital did little to entice him to eat. Sara had thought that maybe bringing food that he had enjoyed previously might encourage him to eat.

"So Thai food was one of my father's favorite foods?" asked Scott as they emerged from the elevator that had taken them to Grissom's floor.

"Yeah, Scott. They say smell and taste have tremendous power in triggering memories. Since your father's appetite has been severely lacking, I thought I'd try to kill two birds with one stone."

The chirping of her cell phone had Sara pausing in her tracks as she checked the caller ID.

"Well, hi Catherine. Scott and I were just about to see Grissom…" Sara stopped speaking as she listened intently to the caller. She gave a quick glance at Scott and stepped away from him.

"Wait a minute, Cath. Mallory, Mallory has escaped? You and Brass are already here? You think he might…" Sara didn't finish her statement as she quickly scanned the nurses' station and the rest of the floor.

"I don't see anything really unusual going on. Looks like business as usual. The floor is pretty quiet. I'll go in and check on Grissom. You said that Vartann is sending up a couple of officers?" She paused as she listened to Catherine.

"No, I'm not carrying, but, then again, I'm off-duty. I don't think the officers have arrived, but I'll check with the head nurse. Then, I'll check on Grissom. I'll call you back in just a minute," said Sara, her voice filled with concern.

Returning to Scott, she handed the bag of food she had in her hand to Grissom's son. "Stay here. I want to check with the head nurse and then see your dad before we bring him his dinner."

"Sara…" Scott queried, "What's going…"

"Listen Scott. It's probably nothing. Just hang out here, okay?"

"No, I'm coming with you. If it's something to do with Grissom, I should be there," Scott said stubbornly.

"Scott, something happened at County Lock-Up, and Brass just wants to make sure that things are secure here, all right?"

"What happened at County? It's Mallory, isn't it? What's that got to do with Grissom?" Scott paused, his eyes widened, "He escaped, didn't he? Brass is afraid that he's going to come after my father, isn't he?"

Sara let out an exasperated sigh, "Just stay here okay? I'm sure he's just fine."

"Are you kidding me right now? No way, Sara."

"Fine. I don't want to waste time arguing with you. Just stay behind me," Sara grumbled and then in a whisper just under her breath, "God, you're as bad as your dad."

"I heard that," Scott whispered back.

Sara quickly gave Scott a hard look and proceeded to the nurses' station. Stacey Knight, the head nurse for the floor, looked up from her computer screen.

"Hi. I see that you brought Mr. Grissom something to eat. It smells good. If that doesn't jumpstart his appetite, I don't know what will," she said with a grin.

Sara smiled back and looked down the deserted hallway towards Grissom's room.

"You haven't seen any strangers hanging around, have you? Specifically a white male about his tall with dark blonde hair cut into a crew cut?"

Stacey frowned, "No, can't say that I have, but I barely came on shift just before you and Scott got off the elevators. You should probably ask Jenny. Her shift doesn't end for another hour, but I think she's making her rounds. Is there anything wrong or that I need to know?"

Sara shook her head, "I don't know. Just a little paranoid where Grissom's concerned. Scott and I will go see if we can get him to eat something before he fades completely away."

Sara tipped her head at Scott and led the way to Grissom's room. The door was shut so she knocked softly. Hearing muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door, she quickly opened the door.

"Hey Gil, Scott and I brought…" Any further words momentarily died in her throat. Sara quickly surveyed the scene that lay before her. Turning to Scott, she ordered him to have Stacey call hospital security. Stunned, Scott stared into the room, the bags of food forgotten.

Sara grabbed the bags and tossed them down and shoved Scott out the door. "Go Scott! Now! Quickly!"

Seeing that all three occupants of the room were not injured, Sara quickly pulled out her cell and hit speed-dial.

"Cath…it looks like we're too late," Sara tried to swallow the panic that was rising within her and stay calm, "It…it looks like this just went down. I've got three victims tied up and gagged. They don't look like they've been injured. I'm going to try to get some answers. Yeah….see you when you get here."

Sara hurriedly slid on latex gloves from the bathroom and swiftly untied Jenny. The handcuffed officers would have to wait until other law enforcement officers to arrive so that they could be uncuffed. Sara quickly removed their gags and helped them into sitting positions.

Automatically shifting into investigation mode, Sara grilled the officers on the details of Grissom's disappearance. It had only been a matter of minutes since Mallory had taken Grissom and Jones.

Sara was immediately on her cell phone to Catherine and she had hospital security locking down the facility as best they could. The elevators were shut down and the hospital exits were either guarded or locked. All emergencies were being diverted to other hospitals in the Vegas area. All hospital personnel had been alerted that two escaped prisoners from County were loose in the hospital with two hostages, but were to remain calm as to not disturb or upset the patients.

*****************************************

Mallory knew that it was only a matter of minutes before Sara would discover that Grissom had been taken. Time was short. By now he was sure that the authorities had discovered that the man in the ER was not who they thought he was. Wilson seemed to have things under control. Except for Jones entering the room, everything had gone as planned. Mallory hadn't planned on taking his cousin, but Mallory would make it work. As far as he was concerned, taking Ken Jones along with them was a bonus.

Wilson stopped the elevator on the next floor down, knowing that in a few moments the elevators would be locked down. The stairways would take a little longer to be secured. Emerging from the elevator first, Wilson checked to make sure that the hallway was clear. Turning his head, the tall Afro-American nodded his head, and the group made their way quickly to the stairs.

Jerking Grissom out of the chair, Wilson pushed the injured man against the wall and held him there.

"Doc, get over here. You're going to have to help him down the stairs," ordered Wilson.

Jones took a deep breath and draped his left arm around Grissom's waist and pulled the man's arm around his own shoulders. His patient gave him a wan smile to let him know that he was okay, but Jones could plainly see the pain etched across his face.

Taking the lead in the stairwell, Wilson opened the door and led Jones and Grissom down the stairs with Mallory bringing up the rear. They would have to move quickly before security was fully alerted.

After stumbling down two more flights of stairs, Wilson let the two men rest a bit while he checked for security. Seeing the way clear, they made their way down one more flight to the hospital's underground parking garage.

By this time, Grissom was feeling serious pain rear its ugly head from his abdominal injuries. Though Jenny had just given him his pain medication minutes before, the jostling, pulling, and stumbling aggravated his injured ribs and abdominal wound. His head was spinning from Mallory's blow to his head, and he had trouble focusing his vision.

"C'mon Grissom, not much further. Just through that door. Our ticket out of here should be right outside this door," said Mallory has he grabbed the front of Grissom's T-shirt and pulled him away from Jones. Grissom staggered forward holding his casted left arm close to his side with his right hand.

Mallory proceeded to push Grissom against the wall next to the door as he carefully opened it and shoved the injured man through the opening. Following right behind him, Jones was being pushed forward by Wilson who was pressing this gun into the doctor's back.

The driver of the blue Missions Linens utility van had backed the van up to the entrance of the back door. As the driver waited patiently for his "delivery" to show up, he pulled his cap low over his head and adjusted his dark glasses. The stairwell door slammed open, and Grissom stumbled forward and fell to his knees.

"Get up Grissom. Your friends are going to be showing up any second, and we need to be away from here before that happens," said Mallory forcefully.

Turning to his cousin, Mallory added, "Kenny, I'm sorry, but you're not coming with us. It's obvious that you can't be trusted. I just want to have to deal with what you might do when my back is turned. Wilson, you know what to do."

Grinning like a mad man, Wilson turned towards the doctor, but Jones was not about to be gunned down without a fight. He charged Wilson, catching the escaped prisoner off-guard. They crashed into the open bay of the van, and both men fought for control of Wilson's gun. The gun went off and an errant shot ricocheted through the van.

Panicked, Mallory screamed at the driver, "Let's get out of here! Step on it, damnit!"

The driver hesitated for a second, but then the door from the stairwell burst open with several LVPD officers spilling through. Seeing the police, the driver immediately hunkered down in his seat and gunned the engine. The sudden lurching of the van as it screeched from its parking space ejected the two fighting men out onto the concrete floor of the parking garage.

As the escaping van squealed around the corner and up the exit ramp, Mallory was able to brace himself and slam the cargo doors of the van shut. Gulping for breath, Mallory slid the gun into the holster at his hip. Grissom who was holding his injured left arm close to his body was trying to brace himself against the wild rocking of the van has the driver sped from the hospital parking garage to the bright sunlit streets of Las Vegas.

**********************************

A/N: There'll be one final twist, but it will all be good. Believe it or not, we're close to the end. Please, please review and let me know what you think. beck


	45. Chapter 45

_**Journey Through the Past- Chapter 45**_

Manny adjusted the Mission Linens delivery cap low over his forehead. His directions were clear. Estavez, the leader of the Knights, had ordered him to Desert Palm Hospital to pick up Lucas Mallory and Todd Wilson and take them to Estavez's hideaway near Indian Springs after Mallory retrieved the "package". The hijacked van would make the perfect cover to smuggle both escapees out of the hospital.

As Manny turned the van into the underground parking garage of the hospital, he was spotted by Detective Vartann. _Damn! Vartann spotted me. That's just great._

Immediately the police detective shouted for Manny to stop. He ignored the detective and nonchalantly tried to steer the van away from the officer. Looking anxiously into his rearview mirror, he saw the detective raise and aim his weapon. Manny swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat. Slamming on his brakes, he decided that facing Vartann was much preferable than the other end of a bullet.

Still holding his weapon in both his hands, Vartann approached the van slowly from behind the driver's side. Officer Mitchell was covering the opposite side. Manny slowly opened his door and edged his way out of the van with his hands up.

The police detective, with his weapon still trained on Manny, walked slowly forward. "Well, if it isn't Manny Fierro. Manny, by the looks of things, it looks like you decided to get a legitimate job, but I know better. Now, tell me why are you driving this Mission Linens van?"

The young gang member turned and faced Vartann, keeping his hands up. "Hey, Vartann. I didn't know it was you, man. If I had known you was callin' me, I would have stopped right away, y'know."

"Right, Manny. I know better. You're stallin'. What gives? I don't have time to mess around with you. You tell me now or I'm taking you down to PD and booking you for grand theft auto. You know one more violation of your parole will land you some hefty time. You know what that means…Tonya and the baby won't see you until you're a little old man. So what's it going to be?"

Manny stared at Vartann, suddenly frightened at the possibility of doing hard time in the state penitentiary. "Estavez arranged for me to get this van. I have a job to do. If it doesn't come off, he'll will come after me and Tonya. I…I can't risk it. You…got to protect me and my family."

"Manny, I will do what I can, but right now I need to know what is supposed to go down. This has to do with Mallory and Gil Grissom, doesn't it?"

Manny gulped and quickly nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm their getaway."

Shoving the frightened man against the van, Vartann whispered fiercely, "Okay, my friend, you're going to tell me every detail of what is supposed to go down and don't miss a beat."

*************************************************

Manny Fierro carefully backed up the van to the designated stairwell door. Heaving a deep sigh, the young man scanned the half-empty garage and knew that he was being watched. The urge to just take off and escape from his dilemma was overpowering. He absently fingered the wires that Vartann had taped to his chest and shivered at the knowledge of what would happen if Estavez found out that he was Vartann's informant. Complicating matters even more was that he was sure that Grissom knew that he was one of Vartann's informants. He was half tempted to take off and grab Tonya and the baby and just disappear.

The banging open of the stairwell door brought Manny out of his reverie. Glancing behind him through his rearview mirror, he watched as an obviously hurting Gil Grissom staggered from the door and was pushed up against the back of the van by Lucas Mallory. Mallory swung open the rear doors of the van and roughly shoved his captive in. Grissom landed in the back of the van with a dull thud and groaned loudly as he landed on his casted arm. As Mallory crawled in, Manny's attention was drawn back to the stairwell as a man in a white coat was being pushed forward by Todd Wilson.

Manny started up the engine, but not before he heard Mallory tell Wilson to take care of the doctor. _Oh great! Now I could be an accessory to murder..._Manny stared in fascination as the doctor wasn't going to go down without a fight. Mallory screamed to take off, and he didn't hesitate. Manny stepped on the accelerator full force. The van screeched forward and rounded the corner on two wheels. As the back doors of the van swung wildly from the lurching of the van, Mallory was able to grab the doors and slam them shut as the van quickly exited the parking garage.

The rocking of the van as it negotiated its way through the streets of Las Vegas was making the pounding in Grissom's head worse. Sitting with his back braced against the side of the empty van, Grissom held his casted left arm close to his body and used his right arm to help keep his place on the van floor. His ribs ached fiercely and sharp pains were shooting through his side. Grissom was sure that when he landed on his arm, the hard cast did wonders on his healing ribs and stitches that were still healing.

Grissom had no idea where or even what direction they were headed. He leaned his head back, hoping the nausea and dizziness would just go away. Glancing up, Grissom looked forward, catching a slight glimpse of the driver. The lowered cap and the fact that the driver was hunkered down in the seat obscured his view of the driver, but there was something familiar about him. _Everyone I see has a familiar face, like I've seen them before…still…perhaps one of Mallory's "friends" from the clinic? _Grissom shook his head slightly, hoping to shake the cobwebs loose.

Mallory sat opposite of Grissom and quietly observed his captive. Mallory had Grissom right where he wanted him, and he was anxious to get away from Vegas. The authorities would be combing the area for their missing colleague, and Mallory would have to stay a step ahead of the massive manhunt that was sure to come.

Raising his left arm and rapping the back of the driver's seat to get the driver's attention. "Hey, you up there…Where are we headed?"

Manny continued to drive and didn't turn around, but instead replied in a gravelly voice, "Wilson wasn't supposed to be left behind. Estavez isn't going to be happy about that. Anyway, I'm supposed to take you wherever you want to go to pick up a package that you're to give me. Then I'm supposed to help you leave the area. Right now, I'm just makin' sure the police ain't followin' us."

"Okay…that sounds straight forward enough. By the way, what's your name?" asked Mallory.

"You know what? I'm just doing what I'm told. We don't need to be on a first name basis."

"Okay. Okay," said Mallory has he rolled his eyes with impatience, "I'm going to assume that your boss gave you something for me. That was part of the deal."

Manny reached under his seat and brought out brick-like package and tossed it over his shoulder over to Mallory. Mallory caught it and quickly opened the package. The package contained two $10,000 bricks of one-hundred dollar bills, false identification papers for two men, and three filled syringes. Mallory looked carefully over the contents.

"Hey, where's the rest of the package? Did you know what was supposed to be in the package? There was supposed to be at least $150,000 in hundreds. There's only twenty here. What gives?"

"I'm just the delivery guy, remember? I didn't know what was in there. All I was told was that this was a down payment and the rest was coming when you delivered your end of the bargain. Where is it that you want me to take you?"

"When you think it's safe, we need to go north on Highway 95 for a couple of hours. That's all I'll tell you for right now," growled Mallory.

Grissom watched Mallory as he sourly hunkered down with the contents of the package that had been tossed to him. Grissom frowned to himself. His memories were still fractured, but he did remember that Mallory was responsible for his addiction to the meth/cocaine/heroin combination. What Grissom couldn't remember was whether his addiction was because of his own actions and Mallory was just his supplier or was Mallory really responsible?

Grissom looked away and stared at his feet. Logic dictated that the possibility that he himself was responsible for his condition was a real one. Wasn't there an investigation underway? It didn't matter that the test results showed that his body didn't show the effects of long term addiction. Maybe he had stayed clean after he thought that Rachel and Scott had died, and that his past association with Mallory had drawn him back into that lifestyle when Mallory escaped from Folsom. However, every fiber of his being told him that this scenario was wrong.

He looked up and stared at the man across from him. Mallory stared back with a soft smile on his face.

"Grissom, you look like a man who has a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. I suppose you want to know why I would risk being caught and sent back to jail by taking you with me."

"It doesn't make sense for you to do so. They would add kidnapping to the list of charges against you. It could make things worse for you."

"You are correct in that aspect, but you don't recall the close relationship we had before all this started, do you? How I supplied you with what you needed which allowed you to keep your reputation and job. We were partners."

Grissom shook his head. "I don't believe you."

Mallory shrugged his shoulders. "You're just confused. In a few hours, you're going to beg me for relief. Kenny knew which meds would help with the pain and keep your withdrawal at bay. What I have is better. We'll see what you want to believe by the time we get back to the clinic."

Grissom wrapped his arms around himself and settled back for the ride north. Mallory had the gun and, more than likely, the driver was also armed. His chances of overpowering both Mallory and the driver were nil even if he weren't nursing injuries. However, he decided that he would rather die than to take any of the poison that Mallory would try to tempt him with.

**********************************************

Sara paced back and forth in Grissom's office at the crime lab. It had been at least an hour since Mallory had abducted Grissom. Sara figured that the best place for her and Scott would be at the crime lab so that they would be on hand if and when any new information came in. Detective Vartann and Catherine Willows watched her nervous pacing.

Sara paused in mid-step and looked at Vartann. "Why isn't there APB out for that van and for Mallory? God knows what Mallory is doing to Grissom or where he's got him."

Vartann wasn't sure he wanted to tell Sara everything that was going on so lamely replied, "Sara, we're tracking the van. For the time being, Grissom is safe."

The tall slender brunette gave Vartann an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me right now? He's in a stolen van with a lunatic. He's still recovering from the ordeal that…that madman put him through the first time. That's all you're doing?... Tracking it? How…just how are you tracking it?...Unless you somehow were able to attach a GPS tracker on it."

Sara stopped and stared at both Vartann and Catherine as the realization hit her. "Whose bright idea was that? You could have just arrested Mallory, and Grissom would have been safe!"

Catherine looked at Vartann and then at Sara. Clearing her throat, the senior CSI spoke softly to the irate young woman, " Um, Sara…it was Sheriff Burdick who approved this whole operation. Mallory was armed, and he wasn't alone. We didn't know if or how many others might have been involved in getting Mallory free. It all went down so fast; a decision had to be made. There wasn't time to analyze every angle."

"Oh, that's just fine and dandy. Grissom is abducted. Never mind the fact that he is still trying to recover from being shot, heal a mangled arm, and is fighting a physical addiction to God-knows-what. So you're tracking the van. Do you know at least know where they're headed?"

"They're headed north on Highway 95. They're probably headed back to the clinic or to the desert where Mallory was first captured. We believe that incriminating evidence having to do with the Knights and the drug trafficking trade in Vegas are what Mallory is after. If we're lucky, the exact combination of substances that Mallory had been giving Grissom will also be recovered."

"The question still remains. Grissom is still in danger. There's no telling what Mallory will do, and besides that, Gris is due for his meds soon," Sara persisted.

"Grissom is going to be okay. Sara, I promise you," Vartann tried to sound convincing.

"Just how do you know that? How do you know that Mallory won't just turn around and kill him? He's due for his next round of meds. What happens when his withdrawal and pain overwhelm him?"

Scott silently took in the entire conversation and was not sure who was right in this situation. He was itching to do something, anything really, to get his father back in one piece, but he also knew that as long as Mallory was alive and well, he would always be a threat to his father.

"What can we do to help? I know that clinic and the hills around the clinic like the back of my hand. I practically grew up there. There are hundreds of hiding places up there, and I can show you all of them. I also know the most likely routes Mallory will likely take other than the main highway," Scott said quietly.

Catherine exchanged looks with Vartann and as she was about to speak, Warrick rushed into the room.

"Cath, Archie's got something in the AV lab. He was able to finally get a signal from the transmitter, and we've also got an audio feed from the van."

Catherine nodded and reached over and grabbed Sara by the arm. "C'mon. I'll get you both up to speed on what's going down."

Sara's eyes opened wide. "You have the van wired too? The…van… that…Grissom's…in…is… wired. Catherine…" Sara wasn't sure whether she was more angry or worried at the gamble the police department was taking with Grissom's life.

"Listen Sara, this arrangement doesn't exactly have me thrilled either. After everything he's been through, this is the last thing that he needs, but, knowing Grissom, he would agree to this," Catherine paused momentarily, "at least the Grissom who we knew and loved before this all happened would have agreed to this."

"But, how…"

Sara didn't finish her question as they all entered the AV lab. Archie was attempting to filter out extraneous noise from the audio feed and sharpen the voices that could be heard crackling from the speakers. Nick was tracking the van, and its progress as it made its way north could be seen on the computer screen.

"How…how far behind is Mallory being followed?" whispered Sara as she watched the blimp that represented the van move across the map at a rapid pace.

"Don't worry, Sara," Vartann said confidently, "Mallory has no clue that he's being tracked, and he has no idea that we can pretty much hear everything he's saying. Should there be any sign of trouble; help is less than five minutes away."

Sara turned to Catherine. "I think that you should bring us up to speed, don't you?" she said with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Looking around and noting who was in the room, asked, "Why isn't Brass or Greg here?"

Catherine took a deep breath before she replied to Sara's questions. "Brass and Greg are following in Brass's Taurus. Since we're tracking the van, he's keeping a distance of about 3 to 5 miles back. A SWAT team is also behind them, another mile back."

Catherine put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Sara, Brass is actually behind this whole operation. When the whole thing came down at County, we found out that the patient in the ER wasn't Mallory. Brass must've broken all kinds of speed records to get to the hospital to check on Grissom. He called ahead to Vartann to tell him what had gone down and ordered guards for Grissom. Vartann was already at the hospital on an unrelated matter. Anyway, he was in the parking garage when the Missions Linen van came in. Vartann recognized the driver as a gang member of the Knights he had arrested previously and had used as an informant. Putting two and two together, he "enlisted" the help of the driver."

Sara was still confused as to the timing. "Catherine, how was there any time to set this up? I mean no one carries transmitters and wires around on their person. How was there time to wire this guy up and to calibrate a transmitter? How does Vartann know that he can trust this guy? I mean, I'm pretty sure that Vartann had pretty much strong arm him into helping."

Catherine gave Sara a half smile. "It just so happens that the unrelated matter that Vartann was at the hospital for was an undercover sting operation. The operation succeeded, but the undercover officer was injured and Vartann was here to retrieve the wire and transmitter from the officer. When Vartann arrested the driver of the van, the driver spilled. Ken Jones also bought us some time. His unexpected run-in with Mallory in Grissom's room bought us a little bit of time to set everything up."

Catherine grinned widely. "Yes, our Detective Vartann has quite a way with words. Anyway, the driver laid out the plan. Seems that Mallory has evidence that will pretty much destroy the Knights and put the leaders away for a long time. Mallory was able to strike a deal with Estavez, the leader of the Knights. He would turn over all this evidence in exchange for money, false id, and transportation out of the country."

Catherine turned her attention to the computer screen where Nick was still tracking the van. The GPS unit was still working well, but Archie was receiving more static than conversation from the wire attached to Manny.

"Archie is there anything we can do to boost that signal?" asked Vartann.

"No, not really. Those things have a limited range. If we're lucky, we can still get a faint signal for another thirty or forty miles. I'll do what I can to boost the signal. I'm guessing the problem is that the wire attached to Vartann's informant, but he's driving so he's facing away from both Mallory and Grissom. These things have a limited distance to pick up audio," said Archie.

"Well, do what you can," encouraged Catherine.

Archie nodded and smiled, "Will do, Boss."

At that moment, Ken Jones entered the room escorted by Officer Mitchell.

"Ms. Willows, Dr. Jones is here as you requested," announced Mitchell.

Looking up, Catherine thanked the officer and turned her attention to Jones.

"You look a little better than the last time I saw you,' Catherine commented as she noted the butterfly strips over his left brow and the bruises along his jaw line.

Rubbing his jaw ruefully, Jones gave Catherine a small smile. "I'm glad to know that I can still hold my own in a fight, although I'm not anxious to try again soon."

Jones listened carefully to the crackling voices coming through the speakers. "You were able to wire up the van?"

Vartann nodded. "Yeah, but we're going to lose it pretty soon. Can you understand any of the conversation?'

The room was suddenly quiet as the voices kept fading in and out.

Listening carefully, Jones could discern his cousin's voice, but the words were garbled. Archie handed Jones a set of headphones, saying, "Here. Try these and see if they help."

The doctor slipped the headset on and took a seat next to the AV technician. Jones shut his eyes and concentrated on the voices he was hearing over the earphones.

After a few moments, Jones opened his eyes and took the headphones off. They had lost the feed. Looking around him, he locked eyes with Scott who sensed that something was wrong.

The young man searched his would-be father's face. Stepping closer to Jones, Scott whispered in a low voice that no one but Jones could hear, "What's wrong? My father isn't doing well, is he? It's worse than you thought, isn't it?"

Jones shook his head and stared into Scott's cobalt blue eyes that were so much like Grissom's. "Grissom is holding his own. Mallory is…is headed to the clinic."

Overhearing, Catherine commented, "We figured that's what he was going to do- to go after whatever he has over Estavez."

Jones said quietly, "I think I know exactly where he's going. I'm pretty sure that he's on the way to Rachel's grave."

" Why? Why would Mallory take Grissom there?" asked Catherine.

Ken Jones spun his chair around and faced the group gathered around him. "Rachel…Rachel's body isn't there. She wanted to be cremated and so she was. I knew she loved the ocean. She and Grissom met in California. Both were from California and grew up near the Pacific. She spoke of her love of the ocean, and if she hadn't become a criminalist, she might have become a marine biologist. After she died, I was going to scatter her ashes off the Santa Monica Pier. It…it's where she and Grissom first met."

Scott stared wide-eyed at the man sitting in the chair before him. "You really did love her, didn't you? Why the pretense of a grave? Where are her ashes? I don't understand why the pretense to have a headstone and grave."

Jones looked up at Scott, quiet desperation in his eyes, as a wan smile crossed his lips. "I did it for you. You needed a connection, something to comfort you…and, in a way, it comforted me too. It helped me to see that you had something to hang on to. Her ashes are being stored at a mortuary in Tonopah. I…I never got the chance to scatter her ashes."

"How do you know Mallory is going to take Grissom to Rachel's grave?" asked Catherine, trying to absorb this newest turn of events.

Jones looked at Catherine and nodded at the headphones in his hands, replying, "I heard him tell Grissom that he knew that Rachel wasn't dead and that he could prove it. I heard him tell Grissom that her body wasn't buried in the grave and that he would show him to prove it to him."

"Why would he do that? What kind of twisted game is he playing at?" Nick asked.

The doctor shrugged, "I think it's part of the game Lucas is playing in order to get Grissom to think that he's being deceived. Who knows? Maybe a way to break Grissom down…maybe a way to control him. I couldn't tell you. I didn't know that Lucas knew about Rachel's body not being in the grave or how he found out about her ashes. "

Sara sat down heavily on the stool next to her. She wasn't sure what she felt at that moment. She wondered what this would do to Grissom. He was already carrying tremendous guilt. This would surely crack whatever stable foundation he had been able to build over the last few weeks since this whole episode had begun.

Turning to Vartann and Catherine, Jones continued, "I assume that you all are headed up there. You'll need me with you to least stabilize Grissom. His meds should be wearing off soon. I think that I can defuse the situation with Rachel."

"Do you really think that you can make him believe you- especially after Mallory gets done with him?" asked Scott quietly.

Catherine looked at both men and came to a quick decision. "You're both coming with us, but…are both of you listening to me? You'll both be with the paramedics and support team. You are not to approach the scene unless you have Brass's, or Vartann's okay. We're already on thin ice having you here at the lab let alone bringing you to a crime scene. You two understand me?"

Both men gave the senior CSI slow nods. Satisfied that they would have no troubles with them, she turned to the Vartann, Nick, and Warrick.

"Okay, guys. Let's hit the road. We've got ground to cover."

******************************

Grissom was beginning to feel his medication starting to wear off. The dull aches that he was able to push to the background were starting to creep forward into his consciousness, making it hard for him to concentrate. Mallory had carefully slipped the gun into the holster and leaned casually against the side of the van observing Grissom. He apparently felt the need to keep a running conversation going with Grissom, trying to get some kind of reaction out of the man. Grissom breathed in deeply and tried to focus on piecing together the shards of memory that kept plaguing him and ignore the constant stream of words that kept running from Mallory's mouth.

"Hey, Grissom. You still with me, man? Hey, I'm still talking to you. I was talking about Rachel," shouted Mallory over the din of the engine and highway noise. He nudged the man's foot roughly.

At the mention of Rachel's name, Grissom's head shot up, focusing his attention on the man grinning like a Cheshire cat before him.

"Wha..what about Rachel?" asked Grissom haltingly.

"I asked if you still love her, Grissom. You still love her, don't you?"

"Rachel was part of my life. She will always be a part of me. Nothing could change that," Grissom breathed in deeply. "She was the mother of my son, but I… I've had to move on."

"What if I told you that she still lives? That Kenny has kept her hidden- what would you say then?"

" Whatever it is, I don't really believe you. What's your point, Mallory?" asked Grissom wearily.

"I know stuff. I know you don't trust me. Actually, I really understand that. However, I know about Rachel. Would you like to see her?"

Grissom eyed his nemesis warily. "What kind of sick game are you playing at? I saw her grave at the clinic. I remember finding her resting place."

Mallory grinned, "Yeah, you found the headstone and grave that Kenny put there. Did you see her body?"

"Why would he fake her death? I wasn't in the picture and not ever likely to be. Your cousin told me he loved her. From what Scott told me he treated her well." Grissom shook his head in disbelief.

Still smiling at Grissom, Mallory leaned forward and patted him on the knee, "Just think about it, my friend. Think about the events of the last few weeks and tell me who has been on your side. If I wanted revenge against you, couldn't I have just killed you with an overdose…" as Mallory continued he slipped the revolver out of its holster, "…or a bullet through your head? Haven't I had ample opportunity to kill you?" He sat back, and let Grissom contemplate all that he said.

Mallory sat back, fingering the revolver in his hand. Glancing over at Grissom, Mallory took note that his eyes were closed. Taking this opportunity, the escaped convict quietly and quickly unwrapped one of the syringes. Crawling over to his intended victim, Mallory plunged the needle into Grissom's neck, emptying the entire contents.

Arching his back, Grissom's eyes flew open with surprise as his arms flew up to push Mallory away from him. Grissom felt the burning sensation of the contents of the syringe course through his body.

Gasping, Grissom rolled over on his side and panted, "Mallory, wha…what did you do?" Swallowing, his tongue suddenly felt as if it had swollen to twice its size. The aches and pains all seemed to suddenly fall away, and Grissom could feel himself drifting. Trying to maintain his focus, he tried to concentrate on maintaining his hold on reality. Within a matter of seconds, the van had taken on a surreal appearance. Grissom tried to get up but found that his arms and legs wouldn't obey his commands. He gazed stupidly at his hands and feet as if they were foreign objects.

"Relax, Gil," said Mallory soothingly, "just rest easy. You don't have to worry about anything. I've taken care of everything. All you have to do is feel good right now."

Grissom looked into the friendly face close to his and simply nodded, having temporarily lost the use of his voice.

Grissom sighed. He did feel good, more relaxed than he had ever remember feeling. There wasn't any pain, just a feeling of peacefulness. What was it that he was so worried or uptight about? He couldn't seem to remember what was so damn important.

"Yes," he slurred," I do feel wonderful. Thank you."

Mallory gave Grissom a wide smile and patted his head as he would a dog, "Yes, my friend. You're welcome. I'm glad that you're feeling so good right now, cuz when you crash from this high, you'll need me to be your best friend."

Grissom smiled back at Mallory. The swaying of the van gently rocked him into a drug-induced haze.

***************************************

The chirping of his cell phone had Brass taking out it of his pocket. Checking the caller ID, he answered rather tersely, "Catherine, tell me some good news. You're positive that Mallory's headed back to the clinic and not up that canyon?"

The senior investigator answered calmly, "Jim, I'm positive. The guys and I have already left Vegas and we're just north of Indian Springs. An additional SWAT team is following us up. We've arranged for a paramedic unit from Tonopah on alert, and they won't leave Tonopah until we give the okay. A search and rescue helicopter is on its way to Tonopah in case we need it. Jim, Mallory won't be getting to the clinic until after dark. Obviously, we can't be running lights or we'll tip him off."

"We're not going to wait until daylight this time around. We'll be going in using night vision goggles and infrared to go in. The facility is still treating patients even though Jones is no longer there. There are only a handful of patients who are still being treated or are waiting for another facility to take them. Only one wing of the clinic is open. The others are closed down and locked up. We've already contacted the doctor in charge, and she has alerted the night time staff. The facility is already on lock-down."

"Do you know where that Missions van is right now as we speak?"

"Yeah, it was spotted in Beatty about twenty minutes ago. They gassed up and then took off- didn't even use the facilities there- a place called "The Death Valley Fruit and Nut Company. We left Beatty about fifteen minutes ago. Greg is in constant contact with Archie, and according to the tracker, he's still on 95, though he should be coming to the dirt road that leads to the clinic soon after he leaves Goldfield."

"He should be entering Goldfield in another ten to fifteen minutes. You've alerted Sheriff Taylor that he's on the way?"

"Yeah, the good sheriff is just going to let us know when he passes through. He and a couple of deputies will be helping us out."

Catherine then signed off and as Nick continued to drive, her attention drifted to the darkening desert, hopeful that they would be able to finally get this nightmare behind them. She glanced behind her at Sara. She had that determined "Sara" look to her, and Catherine knew that the young woman was wondering how Grissom would take it when Mallory showed him that the grave was little more than a mound of dirt.

For Sara, the ride north was giving her time to prepare herself for whatever might happen. It seemed that the first time she had first laid eyes on Dr. Gilbert Grissom so many years ago that she had loved him- that she had always loved him. Turning to observe the young man sitting in the next seat, she considered what might be going through the young man's head. Scott's right hand was nervously tapping his knee as he too stared out at the passing scenery. Mallory had not only turned Grissom's life upside down, but he had changed the course of whatever kind of normal life Scott might have had. Sara had no doubt that Grissom would have been a kind and wonderful father. She just hoped that he would have a chance to prove that to his son and to himself.

****************************************

Mallory straightened up and peered out at the growing darkness.

"Where are we? Have we passed through Goldfield yet? I told you to tell me when we passed through it."

Manny looked at the tanned face of the man peering at him over his shoulder. "We're just coming up to it. How's that passenger of yours? He's been pretty out of it for a while."

"Oh, he's doing just fine," said Mallory with a smirk. "Hey, Grissom! The driver's kinda worried about ya. Tell him you're fine."

Mallory nudged the drugged man roughly with his foot. Grissom's head lolled to the side, and he fell over, his head hitting the rough metal of the van floor with a loud thud.

"See," said Mallory brightly, "he's doing just fine- plenty of spirit."

As Manny glanced in his rearview mirror, he could see the man struggling to move his arms and legs in an effort to sit up. Licking his lips nervously, Manny considered the consequences if Grissom were to die.

"Umm, don't you think you friend could use some coffee or somethin' to wake him up a bit. I mean, it seems to me, that he's in a bad way. Y'know what I mean?"

"Hey, remember- you're just the driver. Grissom's my problem-you just drive, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Manny said grudgingly, wrinkling his brow as he glanced back at an obviously suffering Grissom.

Tapping Manny on the shoulder, Mallory said tersely, "About five miles outside of Goldfield you'll see a dirt road on the left. That will be Dry Canyon Road. Take that road. Follow that for about five or ten miles. I can't quite remember, but, anyway, you'll see a compound of buildings. That's where we're headed. When you see the compound, cut the lights in case there are guards watching for intruders. Got that?"

Manny nodded that he understood and continued to speed along the highway.

Some fifteen minutes later, Manny spotted the dirt road in the growing twilight. He switched on his headlights and took the left onto Dry Canyon Road.

Feeling the rough road under them, Mallory squatted next to Manny to observe the surroundings. He glanced behind him out the back windows and was satisfied that there was no one following them.

Laying a hand on Manny's shoulder, Mallory ordered the man to cut the headlights. "We'll be there soon. Best you cut the lights. I don't want any complications."

"It's getting' kinda hard to see out here," Manny warned.

"Just drive a little slower. There's almost a full moon tonight. There should be enough light to get safely there. We don't want to be seen. I don't even know if it's completely closed down or not. Just be careful, okay?"

Manny nodded and slowed the van down to a crawl. Satisfied that Estavez's man would get them to the clinic in one piece, Mallory turned his attention to Grissom.

Carefully making his way back to Grissom who was lying on his side, Mallory hauled the man up into a sitting position against the wall of the van. Slapping him sharply across the face, Mallory said loudly, "Hey Grissom, time to wake up, buddy. Open those baby-blues. I know you're in there somewhere."

Gil Grissom blinked owlishly at the figure squatting before him. His head was filled with cotton and his arms and legs felt like lead weights.

"Wha..what?" he croaked, trying to form words that seemed just beyond his reach. Confusion was reigning supreme in Grissom's mind and he was having a hard time getting his bearings.

"There you are. So how was your trip? You feeling okay?" Mallory asked with glee.

"M…Mallory, what did you give me?" Grissom said shakily as he felt the effects of the drugs starting to wan. Pain was beginning to inch its way into his consciousness, and his nerves were wound so tight that he felt that he might just snap in half. At the moment, all he could remember was the feeling of euphoria and the wanting to get back to that peaceful place.

"Something that made you feel better, but the downhill trip is a real bummer. I'm sure that you're feeling it right now," Mallory said drily as he eyed Grissom critically. "How's the pain? Nausea? Dizziness?"

Nodding his head, Grissom admitted weakly, "Yeah, all of it. I…I don't remember ever feeling this bad."

Sitting back on his heels, Mallory gave Grissom a small smile. "Grissom, we're almost back to the clinic. You remember the clinic, don't you?"

Taking a moment for his head to clear, Grissom peered up at Mallory, his face looking somewhat ghostly because of the waning light. "Y..yes, I was at the clinic with you and another doctor."

"Right, do you remember why you were there?"

Grissom didn't answer as flashbacks of his experiences hit him full force. Looking at Mallory and then seeing the two remaining syringes laid out on the floor of van acted as a trigger. Swallowing hard, he remembered. He remembered, and he knew that Mallory wasn't what he pretended to be.

"Grissom, hey, are you with me? Did you hear what I asked you? Do you remember why you were at the clinic?"

Carefully, Grissom averted his eyes away from Mallory and then looked down at his feet. The tremors and pain were both coming back full force. Clenching right fist and holding his left arm close to his body, the entomologist spoke softly, being careful to tell him the information he had been fed before, "Yes, I was going through detoxification for drug addiction. Supposedly after my treatment was finished, I was going to be sent to the state penitentiary."

"That's right, Grissom. What else do you remember?"

"You told me that Rachel didn't die in the explosion. It was a ruse that she and you planned together because of my drug addiction- that she had to do that because it was the only way she and Scott could be safe from my abuse."

"Okay. I was afraid that we would have to start your treatments all over. We're almost to the clinic. I want to prove to you that my cousin, Ken Jones, lied to you about Rachel. He led you to believe that she was dead, but I happen to know that her grave is an empty one. He's keeping her from you. He's been lying to you all along."

Manny called back to Mallory, "Hey, we're almost there. I can see the lights around the complex. Do you want me to pull up front?"

"No, pull around back. You'll see an area that looks like a large garden. Park next to the building nearest to the garden. There is also a shed outside of the building. There should be gardening tools in there. Get a shovel from there and then come back here to help me get Grissom out of the van."

A few minutes later, the van pulled up next to the out building Mallory had described. While Manny proceeded to retrieve the shovel from the gardening shed, Mallory tucked the two remaining syringes into his T-shirt pocket and helped Grissom out of the van. The escaped convict backed Grissom up against the van and braced him against the van to help him stand.

The tremors were steadily worsening but Mallory wanted to wait for Grissom to ask, rather beg, for relief. He was sure that it wouldn't be long before the pain, nausea, chills, and tremors would overwhelm his victim.

As Manny approached with the shovel, Mallory took the shovel and ordered the young gang member to help Grissom up the slight embankment to where the small cemetery lay. Tentatively Manny draped Grissom's right arm around his shoulders and half carried , half dragged the suffering man up to where Rachel Grissom's grave was located.

"Put him over there," said Mallory, indicating a stone bench located near the headstone. Grissom collapsed onto the bench, panting and leaning on his good arm to keep himself up.

Handing the shovel to his driver, Mallory ordered the young man to start removing the pavers that surrounded the grave and start digging.. Manny gave him a startled look.

"Look, man. I'm not digging up no dead body. I'm just supposed to drive you where you want to go, get a package from you, and then take you to Estavez to get the rest of your money. No way am I doin' this."

"You'll do it, or you're a dead man," threatened Mallory, taking the gun out and pointing it at Manny's head.

Manny took a step forward and reluctantly grabbed the shovel from Mallory. As Manny started digging up the grave, Mallory turned to Grissom.

"I'm going to prove to you that Kenny lied to you. Something valuable is buried here; it's just not your dead wife."

Grissom stared at Mallory. "It doesn't prove anything. It doesn't change the fact that my wife and son were taken from me. It doesn't matter who was responsible any more. This is all a sick game, and I'm tired of playing," breathed Grissom softly.

Mallory studied Grissom for a minute. "What is it that you want, Gil? Where is your fight? So you want this all to be over? Do you want all the pain to be over? I thought that this might help- to see that Kenny, the one person you thought was helping you, really wasn't your friend at all."

Grissom took in a deep breath. To tell the truth, he was tired. He was tired of feeling trapped, of not being in control, of feeling guilty, and being in pain.

"Yes, Lucas, I want all this to be over. I want to feel _whole_ again- to be in control. It's…it's been so long. I don't know what it's like not, not feel pain, or to not shake so much that I think that my insides will come loose. I thought I had put Rachel to rest, but now she haunts me. I just want to forget and to put all of this," he said through clenched teeth, waving his hand toward Mallory and the still digging Manny, "all behind me- just to send it all away."

"Grissom, I understand. You don't think I do, but I do understand what you are going through. That's why I want to help you. We've been through too much together for me to see you suffer like this. I can make it better for you, and, in the end, you'll thank me."

Manny was now standing chest deep in a pit and turned to Mallory. He leaned against the shovel. "Hey, there isn't a coffin here. Hell, there ain't even a body buried here. It's just an empty grave."

His attention momentarily diverted from Grissom, Mallory replied, "Yeah, I know, but I needed my friend to see that I wasn't lying to him. I do want you to dig along the right side of the grave where those pavers were. You should hit a metal box about a foot down."

Manny stared at Mallory briefly, then nodded and proceeded to pry up the pavers and quickly dig down into the dirt.

"What's so important in the box, Mallory?" asked Grissom in a ragged voice. He blinked to focus his eyes as the moon rise gave the scene a surreal quality.

Turning back to Grissom who sat trembling on the stone bench, Mallory smirked, "In the box is a disk which contains all of my contacts including members of the Knights and other gangs in Vegas who have become police informants. It also has details on the newest street drug out there- a very addictive one I might add. The information on that disk is priceless."

Relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with a dead body, Manny tackled digging where the pavers were. However, he had to think quickly. He had to do something. Vartann and his posse would be there soon. He wasn't sure whether to allow the police to have the disk. He was sure of one thing. He couldn't in any way allow Estavez to have possession of that disk or he, Tonya, and his baby would be dead. In no time, he hit the metal box and brushing the dirt away, handed the box to Mallory.

"What I have here, gentlemen, is our ticket to paradise. Remember Grissom, I told you that I had something valuable here. Well, this is the answer to your problems. When I turn this over to Estavez, you and I will be on our way and you won't have any worries," said Mallory with a grin.

Opening the box, Mallory held up a computer disk and showed Grissom that the box was packed the rest of the way with filled vials. Smiling widely, he turned to Grissom, "This is the stuff that made you feel so wonderful. It's fairly new, Grissom, and you turned out to be pretty resistant to this stuff. The research says that an average person develops a dependence on this stuff within two or three trips, but you, you were able to take pretty steady diet of the stuff before your body became dependent."

In reality, it took five days of constantly giving Grissom the drug to truly get him hooked. Then Mallory gave him a cocaine, heroin, and diazepam cocktail just to throw his body's chemistry off-kilter even further.

Manny pulled the gun that he had hidden in the back of his pants, and pointed the gun at Mallory.

"No, I don't think so, man. I want you to put down the box next Grissom. Then you're going to inject him with both syringes that are in your pocket. After that you're going to get over here down in this grave where you'll die from a bullet."

Mallory's face contorted with anger. "I should have known better than to trust Estavez. We had a deal!"

Grissom looked up at the gang member with the gun. The familiarity of Manny's face clicked. "You're Manny Fierro. I…I remember you. One of Vartann's informants, aren't you?"

"Ah, Grissom, you remember me. Then you know why I can't let you live or why I need to kill Mallory. If Estavez gets a hold of that disk, I'm as good as dead. There's nowhere me or my family can hide. I can't chance it."

Mallory looked at Manny and hoped to bargain his way out. "Look, you can have the disk, then. Just let me go. You can even have the twenty thousand that's in the van."

"No way. The cops will be here any minute. The van had a transmitter on it. They know we're here. I can destroy the disk and hide some of the stuff so that Tonya and I will be set for life. The only way I'll be safe is if both of you are dead so you just do what I told you to do."

Grissom struggled to stand up and in an unsteady voice said, "Manny, I get it. You can't take the chance that Estavez gets a hold of any of that information on that disk. Listen to me, the authorities can protect you- put you in the witness protection program. If you kill both of us, you'll be charged with murder."

"You're wrong, Grissom. I can say that I shot Mallory in self-defense trying to save you from him. You'll die from an overdose. Sorry, man. This is the only way; so Mallory get those syringes out and inject them into Grissom. Do it, and do it now," said Manny desperately glancing around for the law enforcement that he was sure to arrive any minute.

******************************

A/N: As you can see, this chapter was twice as long as the usual chapters. I wanted this one to be the last chapter with an epilogue. However, that didn't quite ring true. Good news is that the last chapter is ¾ done and should be posted in less than a week. Please review about this chapter as it was a difficult one to get through. Thanks becky.


	46. Chapter 46

Journey Through the Past- Chapter 46

_A/N: My sincere apologies for the extremely long delay in posting this final chapter. RL certainly got in the way. After having written most of chapter 46, I realized I hated it and started the whole darn thing over. I hope this version will do. Since you don't have the original version, you'll have to trust me since I totally deleted it off my hard drive. It turned out a lot longer than I expected but I hope that you enjoy it anyway. I tend to get long-winded (sorry about that).._

_A big thank you for Moonstarer for the encouragement on this last chapter. And a big thank you to all of you who have patiently hung in there with me. The epilogue is still left, but I can't promise when that will get done._

Brass pulled the Taurus off onto the dirt road and was immediately on the radio to the law enforcement unit behind him. Greg Sanders, in the meantime, was on his cell to Catherine.

"Hey Catherine. How far out of Beatty are you? We're at the turn off to the clinic. Brass is waiting for SWAT to arrive, and then we're headed in."

Jim Brass signaled to Greg that he should get out of the car and follow him back to the trunk. Greg nodded and then signed off from Catherine.

"Catherine and Vartann are north of Beatty and should be here in about 30 minutes."

Handing him a flak jacket from the trunk, the police detective gave the young investigator a stern eye.

"Well, we're not waiting for them to catch up. Greg, get this on. When we get there, you're to stay behind me and do exactly what I say. You are carrying aren't you?"

Greg nodded that he understood on both accounts. He pulled out his department-issued 9mm. Berretta and made sure that it was loaded and then returned the weapon to its holster.

Just then, the SWAT unit pulled up next to the Taurus and four officers emerged from the vehicle. Sheriff Taylor then arrived with two deputies. Brass debriefed both teams on the operation.

"Okay gentlemen. We're going in using night vision goggles and infrared. No lights from this point on- we don't want to tip Mallory off. We're not sure what he's after or why he has decided to return to the clinic. He has a hostage with him. At this point, we know that the victim, Dr. Gil Grissom from the Vegas Crime Lab, is injured, but we're not sure exactly what his current condition is. Gentlemen, we are not, I repeat, not going in with guns blazing. Please use extreme caution."

The men surrounding Brass all nodded, and Brass continued. "Sheriff Taylor and his deputies will secure the front of the clinic. The rest of you will follow me to the rear of the clinic where the garden and cemetery are located. Remember gentlemen, no lights and use extreme caution. We'll be leaving our vehicles about a quarter mile from the facility and going in on foot."

*******************************

"Catherine, we're about a quarter-mile from the clinic, and we're leaving the vehicles to the side of the road. Remember no lights on after you turn onto Dry Canyon Road. Unless you hear otherwise, you and Vartann's team need to come in on foot. If you haven't heard from us, you'll know the situation is still unresolved and fluid. Scott and Jones will need to stay with the vehicles until we know the entire perimeter is secured," said Brass into his cell phone.

Catherine digested all that Brass had said and acknowledged that she understood. Turning around in her seat, she addressed both Scott and Sara.

"We're coming up to Dry Canyon Road in about fifteen minutes. Once we get there, our headlights will be cut so that we can't be observed going in. We're to stay with the law enforcement vehicles until the scene is secured and all is clear. You both understand?" said Catherine authoritatively.

"What if Grissom should need medical attention? He is sure to be experiencing a tremendous amount of pain and he's due for his meds," asked Scott with concern.

"Our main job is to capture Mallory and make sure that no one else gets hurt. Gil will know that. As a member of law enforcement, he knows the risks," said Catherine grimly. Then she added, "Don't worry. Brass won't be taking any unnecessary chances. He will do everything he can to make sure that your father gets the medical care he needs."

Sara reached over and gently touched Scott on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she tried to reassure him even though she had her own doubts. Sara was itching to race to the clinic on all cylinders. However, she had been in law enforcement long enough to realize that she needed to let the officers do their jobs. Sara's touch did little to calm the young man down. He was going to the clinic, one way or another.

****************************

Mallory had not seen any way out of their predicament when Manny had ordered both syringes in his pocket be administered to Grissom. Mallory had reluctantly taken one of the syringes out of his shirt pocket. Grissom was trembling violently by then, and was clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to control the shaking of his hands. His futile attempt to stand up failed miserably as he collapsed back onto the bench. Grissom gasped for breath and as he looked up at Mallory, their eyes met for briefly.

"Grissom, seriously, I didn't want it to end this way. I had plans for us, you know, but, then again, this will work too," said Mallory softly.

Grissom barely acknowledged him as he retreated into himself to gain some control over his shaking body. He watched Mallory approach with the syringe in this hand, but it was as if he were watching someone else being injected as he followed the needle being inserted into his arm. The sharp stinging prick of the needle was enough to bring him out of his stupor. Grissom jerked up his casted left arm, causing Mallory's head to snap back from the force of the arm striking the side of this head. Mallory took an involuntary step back and fell on top of Manny as the young man was climbing out of the pit. The gun that Manny held flew from his hand and landed near Grissom's feet.

Grissom stared stupidly at the needle protruding from his right arm before clumsily yanking it out with his left hand. He had only received a partial dose, but he felt the burning sensation of the drug as it raced up his arm. The shaking and trembling of his left hand caused the needle to break off the syringe as Grissom viciously flung the needle away. He felt the trembling start to recede as he spied the gun that had flown from Manny's hand. Falling to his knees, Grissom reached for the gun that had landed near his feet. Though the gun was near him, it seemed to Grissom that he was reaching across a yawning distance for the weapon. Everything had slowed down to half speed, and there was a roaring in his ears. Trying to hang on to reality, Grissom swallowed hard and focused his efforts to reach the gun.

Meanwhile, having quickly recovered from his unexpected fall on top of Manny, Mallory swung his fists and pummeled the young man. Taken completely by surprise, Manny could only hold up his hands in front of him to ward off Mallory's blows. The slight advantage that Mallory had was short-lived as Manny was much younger and stronger. Grabbing one of Mallory's flailing fists, Manny pulled the man forward and over the top of him. Now he was on top and had the advantage. Grabbing the shovel, Manny lifted it over his head and just when he was about to strike Mallory, Grissom, having managed to grab hold of the gun, fired the weapon, striking the young man's upper part of his right shoulder.

Manny stumbled backwards a step as the shovel slipped from his fingers. Shock and surprise flashed across his face as he looked at Grissom and then down to see blood spreading down the front of his shirt. Manny gasped from the pain and fell to his knees. Mallory scrambled quickly out of the way and out of the pit. Panting and aching from his fight with Manny, Mallory rolled to his knees and stared at Grissom.

Grissom slowly lowered the gun and stared at the young man he had just shot. He had fired purely from instinct as his training kicked in. The drug was starting work its way through his system, and Grissom could feel its affects as the urgency and panic that were overwhelming him slowly start to ebb away and a tranquil peace gradually settled in.

"Couldn't you just have waited?" whispered Grissom tonelessly as he continued to stare at Manny with haunted eyes.

Mallory slowly stood up, careful to stay out of Grissom's line of vision.

"Grissom, you didn't have a choice. He was going to kill me," said Mallory in a quiet voice. As he deliberately stepped closer to Grissom, Mallory kept a close eye on the man. He would have to act quickly since he didn't know how soon the authorities would arrive.

Reaching swiftly down, he seized Grissom's right hand that held the gun and tried to wrestle the gun out of his hand. Startled out of his stupor, the senior CSI tightened his grip on the weapon and tried to push Mallory away with his left arm. The 9 mm Berretta discharged as the two men struggled. Both men stopped fighting as the kickback of the gun hit both of them simultaneously. Mallory released Grissom and pushed himself away, holding on tightly to the gun he had managed to wrestle away. A dull roar filled Grissom's head and white stars flashed before his eyes as Grissom fell back, smacking his head on the stone bench with a sickening thud.

********************************************

Captain Jim Brass waved the two officers forward as he adjusted his night vision goggles. They could see the security lights of the clinic shining brightly against the dark Nevada sky. The law enforcement officers quickly spread out and Brass stopped momentarily as he watched Sheriff Taylor and his two deputies head out towards the front of the clinic. Brass and his team headed east around the back end of the clinic. Both teams made a wide arc to surround the complex. All the men stopped short when they heard the report of a gunshot coming from the clinic. Less than a minute later, a second shot filled the night air.

The SWAT team looked at one another, and Brass immediately signaled the men forward, and, with their weapons out, they negotiated the dark desert landscape in a matter of minutes. Sliding along the back side of the last building towards the gardens, Brass held his Glock in front of him as he poked his head around the corner of the building. Noticing the Missions van parked a few feet away, Brass waved two of his officers to check out the vehicle while he, Greg, and the two other officers made their way towards the graveyard.

As they crept forward, Brass took in the scene before him. The gravesite had obviously been disturbed. A shovel lay near the open pit that was the grave of Rachel Grissom. Cautiously Brass walked to the edge of the pit and saw the wire that Manny had worn on the bottom of the grave.

Greg crouched down, took out his maglite and shined his flashlight into the pit. Scanning the area carefully, the young investigator searched for evidence that would give them a clue to which direction Mallory, Grissom, and Manny could have gone.

"We're still looking for Mallory, and it looks like he might have two hostages. Okay guys. Let's spread out. They couldn't have gotten far."

Greg pointed to the ground around the stone bench. "Looks like there was a struggle here. Two spent bullet casings. Blood drops… and there's blood on the edge of this bench. Brass, do you think that all this blood is Grissom's? There are drag marks going this direction," said Greg as he pointed to the north east.

The police captain examined the footprints, and looked in the direction that Greg had indicated.

"I don't know Greg. I think we should assume some of this blood is Grissom's though. Looks like they took off either towards that building over there or off into that canyon area," said Brass as he adjusted his goggles. "Let's make our way towards that building. Extreme caution, gentlemen."

"Hey Brass!' Greg called as he quickly bagged the bullet casings, "I found something." Pulling a latex glove out of his vest pocket, Greg reached underneath the stone bench and carefully picked up the object as to not disturb any prints. Holding up the object so that Brass could see the used partially filled syringe, the CSI grimly slipped it into an evidence bag. "The needle's been broken off. Apparently, whoever received this injection didn't want it or the needle wouldn't have been broken off."

"I think we can assume that Mallory was trying to inject Gil with this stuff, and he fought back," Brass said softly. "I also think we can assume the needle is probably either still stuck in Grissom or it's around here somewhere. We'll look for it later. At least we know that Gil didn't get the entire dose. Right now, we need to find where Mallory's taken Grissom."

********************************************

With his arm draped around Grissom's shoulders, Manny half-dragged, half-carried the semi-conscious man to the building at the northwest edge of the gardens. Constantly looking over his shoulder to check for signs of pursuit, Mallory followed closely behind the two men. As they reached the building, Mallory headed around the corner and to the door that was facing out towards the desert landscape.

The moon had risen high enough that the side of the building cast light along the side towards the door. As they neared the door, Grissom let out a loud "hmmph" when Manny unceremoniously dumped the man in a heap on the ground. Manny grasped his right shoulder to help deaden the pain from the gunshot wound and leaned heavily against the building.

Testing the door, Mallory wasn't surprised to find that it was locked. Stepping away from the door, he reached into the planter next to the door and felt around for the key he knew to be buried there. After rooting around the soil and small stones, Mallory uncovered his sought-after prize. He quickly unlocked the heavy metal door and swung it open. He pointed the gun at Manny and motioned for the young man to drag Grissom into the building. Grabbing Grissom under his armpits, Manny dragged him in. Making sure that a trail of blood did not give away where they had headed, Mallory scanned the area around the building and scuffed the dirt to cover up the blood. He then slipped inside the building, closed the door, and made sure that he locked it.

Relieved that he had remembered where the key to this building had been hidden, Mallory pocketed the key and allowed himself to slowly relax. Now that he was at least safe from immediate pursuit, pain surged to the forefront of his consciousness. He slumped down against the wall across from Grissom and Manny to take a moment to gather his strength and figure out a strategy.

This building was mainly used for storage, and Jones had let his cousin use the facility to manufacture the drug that now coursed through Grissom's body. The building was a converted army bunker. Its thick concrete walls acted as an insulator from the extreme desert heat and maintained a constant 65 degrees. It had been an ideal place to manufacture the new street drug though Ken Jones knew little of why his cousin needed the space. The irony of using a rehabilitation clinic to manufacture a new generation of street drugs was not lost on Mallory.

Now that he had a minute to relax, fresh anger surged within him. He had been that close to getting away and that annoying little bastard, Manny, had spoiled his getaway. On top of that, Grissom had not given up the gun easily and the result was that when the gun had discharged, the bullet had entered his side and exited out his back. He was still bleeding from the wound and it hurt like hell. Now, he had to figure out another way to get out of the country. He still had the disk and the vials, but no vehicle, no money, and no identification papers. Hearing a faint moan, Mallory was also reminded that he had both an injured Manny Fierro and a drug-dependent Gil Grissom to contend with, but Grissom was his trump card. If worst came to worst, he would use Grissom as a bargaining chip and just kill Manny. The little sycophant deserved to die anyway for trying to play everyone against one another. For right now, he needed Manny to handle Grissom.

Mallory leaned back against the wall. It would take a little while for the authorities to figure out that they had not escaped through the desert so he was confident that he would be able to figure out another way of escape. The wound in his side was still bleeding, and he decided that he needed to bind the wound in order to slow the flow of blood.

"Manny, stay here with Grissom. The police are probably here by now. You're between a hard place and a stone right now. I'm willing to help you and your girlfriend, but in return you've got to help me get away. Grissom is expendable for right now, but I'm saving him in case we need him. Understand?"

Receiving a reluctant nod from the young man, Mallory continued, "Stay here with Grissom. He ain't going anywhere. Just keep an eye on him."

Slowly standing up, Mallory felt a little light-headed as sharp pain sent chills through his body and stole his breath. The building sported no windows, but Mallory was reluctant to switch on the lights in the narrow hallway should any light escape through the bottom of the door. Holding his right hand over the wound, he crept along the wall, feeling his way until he came to the room where he had manufactured and developed the new drug.

Entering the room, Mallory groped along the side of the room until he found the desk and switched on the small desk lamp. Blinking momentarily from the dim light that illuminated the room, Mallory leaned against the desk as the pain in his side intensified. Finding a sheet on the desk, Mallory tore off a long strip of cloth and bound the wound as tightly as he could. Gritting his teeth at the pain, Mallory considered using some of the drug in the syringe still in his shirt pocket to take the edge off. Shaking his head, he resisted the temptation as the drug had been reserved for Grissom, and he wanted to keep his wits about him. However, he thought for a moment about Manny. The young man was in pain and the drug would ease the pain and certainly make him more pliable. He would have to think about that.

Binding the wound seemed to have helped lessen the pain somewhat and Mallory made his way back out to the dim hallway. Having Manny pull Grissom up against the wall, Mallory slapped his face to wake him up.

"Hey, Grissom. Open your eyes. C'mon, we gotta get you into the other room," whispered Mallory urgently.

The drugged man lolled his head towards the speaker and tried to focus his eyes on the face floating before him.

"Wha..?"Grissom slurred, trying to make his way back to reality.

Letting out a disgusted grunt, Mallory yanked Grissom around, and Manny dragged him the short distance to the dimly-lit room. Depositing the half-conscious Grissom on the chair next to the desk, Manny winced from his own wound and collapsed on the floor.

Watching Mallory carefully take the remaining needle from his shirt pocket and lay it on the desk, Manny asked softly, "Hey man. Do…do you think that you can give me somthin' for this pain?"

Mallory turned to look at Manny in the dim light from the desk lamp. Beads of sweat had formed around his face as he held on to this right shoulder. Mallory had little sympathy for the young thug. It was his fault that they were in this mess in the first place.

Looking slyly at the syringe he laid on the table and the metal box he had placed next to it, Mallory contemplated giving Manny a small dose just to keep the young man in line. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up the needle and crouched over Manny. He quickly injected the needle into the man's arm and depressed the plunger a fraction. Manny's eyes opened wide as he felt the drug burn up his arm and then a slight warming seemed to flow over his body.

Manny visibly relaxed as he felt the pain in his shoulder melt away. "Thanks man," he whispered softly.

"Yeah, sure. Anytime," said Mallory drily. "You stay where you are and keep an eye on Grissom. I'm going to check out the rest of this building."

Mallory was sure that they would be relatively safe as he had made sure that the door was locked. The police would assume that they would not be in this building.

*****************************************

Catherine lifted the hatch of the Denali and handed everyone a flak jacket. Slipping on her jacket, the senior investigator studied the desert nightscape. They could see the lights of the clinic shining in the distance. She watched as Nick and Warrick both checked that their service weapons were both loaded and she then did the same.

"Catherine, I just heard from Brass on my cell. They're searching the grounds. Apparently, Mallory has Grissom and they've disappeared. The deputies and SWAT have spread out and are searching the surrounding desert," Vartann said in a rush as he approached from his own vehicle.

"What does he want us to do? Does he want us to join in the search? We aren't equipped with Night Vision," inquired Catherine.

"You and your team need to stay here. My team and I will work our way to the clinic to make sure that he hasn't slipped out this way towards the main highway. Brass, at this point, doesn't want the extra bodies up there. The situation is too fluid. I'll let you know when it's clear for you and the rest can make it up there," Vartann reported.

"But, we…" protested Catherine.

"No arguments. I don't have the time," said Vartann and turned to join his men.

Catherine threw up her hands in frustration and looked at Sara and the guys.

"Well, I guess that's that," said the exasperated woman.

"We can't just stand here. Grissom needs our help," exclaimed Nick as he angrily paced back and forth.

Warrick nodded his head in agreement and slammed his fist on the roof of the Denali. "This ain't right, man. We need to be up there," spat Warrick.

Sara stared up at the clinic, feeling frustration build up in her. She had to do something_. What did Scott say? That he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. _She turned to ask Scott about the surrounding desert to find that Grissom's son had disappeared into the desert night.

*********************************

Cautiously Brass rounded the corner of the building near the northeast entrance to the gardens and signaled for the officers behind him to cover him as he scanned the area around the building. They had followed a trail of blood drops from the gravesite to the entrance to the gardens. The trail had ended at the entrance. From there, Mallory could have taken off into the desert or could be hiding among the various buildings at this end of the compound.

Sheriff Taylor and his men were already fanning out in a northeast direction from the clinic. Brass was certain that Mallory could not have gone the opposite direction. Even if he had, he had left Catherine and her team to the southwest corner of the complex. Vartann and his team were making their way towards the clinic from that direction. Brass was confident that their net would close in around him and they would have him in custody soon.

The chirping of his cell had Brass barking into the phone, "Catherine? Is there a reason why you're calling me in the middle of a search and seizure?'

"Uh…yeah, Jim…I just thought that you should know, "Catherine said not sure how to tell Brass.

"Catherine, get on with it. I'm in the middle of something here," Brass said impatiently.

"Okay, um Jim. Sara thinks…I mean…we think that Scott…"

"Out with it, Cath. What about Scott?"

"Scott's disappeared. We think he's headed your way," she blurted out quickly.

Catherine heard Brass mutter an expletive and then asked, acid dripping from his voice, "How long has he been missing?"

"Uh…Jim, we're not sure. I'm sure it has only been a few minutes," said Catherine in a quiet voice.

Brass sighed, "Okay Catherine. We're searching around the buildings. Sheriff Taylor has the northeast perimeter covered. Vartann and his team have just arrived from your direction. Go ahead and bring your team up here since Scott will probably be here soon anyway. I'll chew his ass then."

Catherine turned to her team. "Brass wants us up there to help search for Mallory. Weapons out, everyone. Dr. Jones, you're with me and you need to stick to me like glue. You disappear like Scott, I'll personally hand your head on a plate to Captain Brass," said Catherine giving the good doctor a stern look.

"Understood, Ms. Willows," said a somewhat intimidated Jones. He nervously picked up his medical knowing that he would probably need the medicines it contained.

With a nod of her head, Catherine led her team towards the complex of buildings ahead of them.

*****************************************

Scott stood apart from the team of CSI's, impatient that not more was being done to find Mallory and his father. He couldn't just wait out here in the desert when he knew that he could probably help the law enforcement officers locate all the hiding places that Mallory could be. When he tried earlier to tell them what he knew about the complex, he was brushed off by Vartann and Catherine.

"Wait until we get there," he had been told. Well, now that they were _**there,**_ they wanted him to wait. He was done being patient.

Slowly backing away from Sara and the others as they listened intently to Catherine's conversation with Vartann, Scott took a few cautious steps backward. With a silent apology to Sara, he slipped quietly into the night and headed towards a shallow wash which would lead him directly to the gardens and out of sight of the searching officers.

It took him only a few minutes to negotiate his way through the wash. Keeping low so that the search teams would not see him even with their night vision goggles, Scott scanned the area east of the gardens. He was pretty sure that Mallory wouldn't have taken Grissom out to the desert. Grissom's son knew that when Brass caught up to him there would be hell to pay. For right now, he wanted to avoid Brass and Vartann as long as he could until he was reasonably sure where Mallory would be hiding.

Emerging from the wash that made a wide arc around the clinic, Scott stealthily made his way to the building where his father was first held in isolation. He crept along the building and peeked around the corner. The building was locked, but Scott, having grown up at the clinic, knew all the tricks to get past the security for each building.

Taking his pocketknife from his jeans pocket, the young man quickly jimmied open the lock and stole inside the deserted building. Making quick work of the rooms, Scott was satisfied that Mallory and/or Grissom were not in this building. The next most likely place had to be the storage building where Mallory had his main lab. Scott walked swiftly through the narrow hallway and carefully cracked open the door. He caught a glimpse of Brass and two officers emerging from behind the next building.

Taking a deep breath, he quietly opened the door and slipped out. He shut the door behind him and turned to face the law enforcement officers making their way towards him. He smiled grimly at the expression on the captain's face. Scott braced himself for the worst as Brass picked up his pace and marched angrily towards the young man.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Grissom's kid or not, this is an official police operation. Scott, you had no business coming up here. The fact that your Grissom's son is the only reason I don't have you cuffed and have your ass hauled off to jail," Brass growled angrily.

Scott straightened up and eyed the veteran police officer defiantly. "No one would listen to me. I'm pretty sure that Mallory didn't go out to the desert. He's here, hiding somewhere."

Brass stiffened and studied the young man standing before him. "Yeah, we've already figured that out. Just how do you know that's he's somewhere around here?"

"Captain Brass, I know this area inside and out. I grew up here remember? Nothing happened here that I didn't know about. Mallory's not a desert rat like I am. He's smart enough to know that he wouldn't survive the desert especially if he has my father with him. I observed him enough to know that he's not the outdoorsy type. He has to be here, hiding until it's safe for him to leave. I wanted to double-check that Mallory wasn't hiding in the isolation cell or temporary lab that my father was held in."

"Yeah, we're just going in to check," said Brass, calming down a little. "So, he's not in there then. Where do you think he is?"

"Since you have all the occupied buildings in lock-down, he wouldn't have gone there. I'm sure that he's in the storage building."

"Scott, we've checked all the buildings and the doors have all been locked down."

"But the storage building isn't on the same system. Since it didn't house any patients; it just has a regular lock on the door, not a deadbolt."

"The door was secure when we checked it, sir. There was no sign that someone jimmied that lock," said the officer standing behind Brass.

"I'm sure that he's in there. I know where Mallory hid a key to that building," said Scott countered quickly.

"Whoa…whoa…wait a minute. Slow down," said Brass just as quickly. He studied the surrounding buildings a moment and returned his gaze to Scott. "How can you be so sure that Mallory is hiding in that building? Why not one of these other buildings?" questioned the detective.

"I didn't always sleep very well at night-so I'd wander the grounds or out in the desert. Mallory did a lot of his stuff at night and in the early morning hours. I was usually awake and nosed around a bit," Scott shrugged. "He and his guards were always doing stuff at night and when my father was brought here, there was a new level of activity. I was curious. The storage building was really the only one he spent a lot of time in."

Brass nodded and then muttered, "A regular chip off the old block, aren't you?'

Scott gave Brass a curious look and then went on, "I think it's likely that they're both in the storage building. I was on my way to see if the key was missing. If it is, I'm pretty sure that that's where Mallory is hiding."

"Mallory used this lab almost exclusively until he brought my father here. Then he spent more time in the other building. There were all kinds of chemicals and lab equipment stored in this building. He'd go in there to retrieve some vials and then go visit my father. I went in there a couple of times on the pretense of getting some cleaning supplies. I remember Mallory going ballistic once because I was in the building and that's when the lock was installed. Mallory had the key hidden in the planter and didn't keep one on his person because he was paranoid that it might be taken away from him so he hid it. Jones is the only other person I know who had a key. I guess it was one of Mallory's quirks. I spied on him a lot and he didn't know that I knew that he had the key in there. I would sneak into the building whenever I thought I wouldn't get caught," Scott said with a shrug and continued, "Mallory wouldn't have access to any other building, and since he used these two buildings almost exclusively. He wouldn't know the floor plans of the other buildings as well. It just makes sense to me that he would hide in one of these two buildings."

"Okay, Scott, you've convinced me. We'll go investigate the building, but, damn it, you're staying behind me and the officers. Is that clear?" said Brass sternly.

Scott quickly nodded, trying to hide the smirk that crept across his face. Brass rolled his eyes and waved the two officers to follow him towards the storage building.

As they cautiously approached the door of the building, with his back against the building and the two officers flanking the other side of the door, Brass tried the door, finding that it, indeed, was locked.

Scott checked the planter a few feet away and dug around in the planter. "Captain Brass, the key isn't in there. Unless my step-father knew about it, I'm sure our Mr. Mallory has it. I'm pretty sure that Mallory is in there with my father. He secured the door so he probably thinks that you won't be checking this building. I'm positive he doesn't know that I know about the hidden key."

Brass turned to the two officers, "Okay Scott. Are there any other entrances to this building that we don't know about? There aren't any windows and this is the only door that I can see…nothing underground that would connect this building to the others or anything like that?"

Scott shook his head, "This is the only way in or out. I can draw you a map of the general layout of the building. We mainly used it for storage, although the building has several rooms that could be used for isolation cells. Mallory used one of the rooms for a lab."

"Okay, the safest way I think we have is to wait outside the door. He can't stay in there forever. It's a waiting game. There's no way in or out except through this door. We'll just be here when he decides to leave."

***********************************************

Cracking his eyes a fraction, Grissom fought his way to consciousness. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and the images in front of him were a blur. A low moan escaped from his lips as he struggled to sit up. Manny's sweaty hand clamped tightly over his mouth, forcing him back against Manny's lean tough body. Trying to break free of the arm restraining him, Grissom panicked and swung his arms and legs out, trying to kick his way free, but the arm held his fast.

Manny grunted softly as he forced his arm across Grissom's throat, effectively cutting off the man's air supply. Grissom's eyes opened wide and he arched his back, trying to break free as he felt himself weaken from the lack of oxygen. Frantically shaking his head back and forth trying to dislodge the hand over his mouth and the arm across his throat, Grissom felt his strength waning and his movements gradually slowed. The dimly-lit room grew even darker as Grissom lost consciousness.

Manny slowly relaxed his arm across Grissom's throat when he felt the man go limp. The wound in his shoulder fired up again from the strain of subduing the unconscious man who now lay at his feet. Manny allowed Grissom to slump against the wall. Grunting with pain, the young man sank down beside Grissom.

"Keep still you fool!" hissed Mallory. "Do you want the police to find us?"

Both men froze as they heard the muffled noise of the police outside the door trying the lock. Mallory slowly relaxed as he heard the footsteps start to recede and an uneasy silence settled over the room. Moving closer to where Grissom lay unconscious on the floor, Mallory pressed his fingers to the side of Grissom's neck and felt for a pulse. It was there, very rapid, but strong. Squatting back on his haunches, the escaped convict let out a sigh. They were safe from the hunters for now, but for how long, Mallory couldn't hazard a guess.

*****************************

It took only a few minutes for Catherine, Nick, and Warrick to enter to outskirts of the compound. They met up with Vartann who indicated to them that the buildings to the west had been secured and that there was no sign of Mallory or Grissom. They would make their way towards the eastern side of the complex where Brass and his team were continuing to search.

Spying Brass and the officers round the corner of the east building, Catherine and company picked up their pace and trotted over to Brass. The senior CSI spied Scott standing next to Brass as they conferred with the other two officers.

As Sara approached the gathering with the rest of the CSI's, she took note of the faraway look in Scott's eyes. She was familiar with that look as the young man was trying to recall details from a forgotten memory. How many times had she seen that same look come over Gil Grissom's face when was trying to remember some forgotten detail or obscure fact? Apparently that look was familiar to the rest of the team as they all quiet stood near Scott, letting him think out loud what he could remember.

Sara crossed her arms trying not to let her frustration show. She understood the need to be patient, but only God knew when Mallory would deem it to be safe physical injuries were healing, his emotional and mental states were at the mercy of a madman. She took a step away from the group listening to Brass explain the waiting game that was being played out.

Brass glanced through the crowd and noticed Sara's darkening mood. He gave last minute instructions for the law enforcement personnel and then made his way over to Sara.

Gently laying a hand on her shoulder, Brass made direct eye contact with the young brunette. "Hey, you doing okay, kiddo?"

Sara continued to cross her arms and looked away from Brass with her eyes glistening and a trembling frown on her face. Turning back to the police captain, she gave him a half-smile and shook her head slightly, "Um…yeah, I'm okay. It's just that this…this…whole thing…I'd just like him to catch a break, y'know?"

"Yeah, I understand, Sara. The break's coming. Believe me. We'll do everything to get Gil out of there safely," he said as he tried to reassure her.

The young woman nodded her head and gave Brass a wan smile. She knew that the police captain would do everything in his power to ensure Grissom's safety. She just wasn't sure it was enough.

****************************

Lucas Mallory opened the metal box and picked up one of the vials and quickly filled the partially filled syringe. Manny watched him, licking his lips. The stuff Mallory had given him was smooth and he wanted more of it. The pain in his shoulder was practically nonexistent after Mallory had given him some of that stuff. He hadn't given him very much, but it was enough for Manny to appreciate the potency of the drug. Manny watched Mallory as he squatted next to the unconscious Grissom. He straightened Grissom's right arm and gave him the injection. Grissom arched his back slightly from the sting of the needle and his eyes fluttered open.

Gil Grissom laid stock still on the earthen floor, staring at the dimness of the room. A face swam in and out of focus in front of him. _Lucas Mallory! Another injection…God…I can feel it burning through me. God help me to hold on. Can't move my arms and legs. My body is made of stone. Dead weight. Got to stay awake. Where is this place? What is happening to me?_ Grissom tried not to panic as he lay still watching helplessly as the two men hovered above him. He decided to close his eyes and concentrated on listening to what was going on around him. _Voices! I hear voices, but are they real or am I hallucinating? What are they saying? Can't understand…_Grissom tried to decipher the words being said but they were little more than murmurings. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and hoping that by being able to see around him he might make sense of the voices.

Grissom gasped at what he was seeing. _Rachel! You're alive. You're here. _Looking past her, he saw Sara standing close behind her. Both women were smiling at him, holding their hands out to him. As he looked closer at Rachel, she was holding an object out to him, a baby, their baby. Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Greg, and Brass were smiling and murmuring his name. The bewildered man smiled back and lifted his hands to touch the people he loved. He remembered them all and welcomed their presence.

Mallory observed Grissom in the shadowed dimness of the room. His eyes were open wide and he was smiling and whispering softly to himself.

"Whatever trip he's on, he's not going to want to come back," observed Manny. "That must be some mighty fine stuff."

Mallory nodded in agreement, "Yeah, this can give some pretty sweet dreams. Grissom will be happy for a while, but he'll crash hard in a little while. The high doesn't last long and as one uses more of the drug, the highs get shorter and the crashes come harder. This one won't last long and he'll be almost suicidal before it's over. Most of the time, the trips are sweet. Grissom has had some pretty rough trips. When I first gave him the stuff, he had one trip in which I thought that he would literally tear his himself apart. He hasn't had one as bad as that. This stuff can be pretty nasty, and there's no way to predict whether the trip will be good or bad."

Grissom's eyes were open wide, but the vision that appeared before him resembled little of reality. Though the room was dimly lit, in Grissom's eyes the room was so bright, it hurt his eyes. He felt warm and safe as the people he loved throughout his life was gathered around him. His arms reached out and he embraced his mother, Rachel, Scott, and Sara. His team was there and they were smiling and laughing at some private joke. Grissom laughed along with them unsure of what he was laughing at but comfortable in the companionship.

Mallory and Manny watched in fascination as Grissom embraced the imaginary people that only he could see, smiling and chuckling to himself. The drugged man continued his hallucinations for a little more than an hour and then his eyes half-closed as the drug started to wear off. His movements slowed and his limbs started to tremble.

"Hey, man, I think he's comin' down. He's not lookin' so good now," said Manny in a low voice.

"Good. Right on schedule. His trips when I had him here before would last for hours but as his body built up tolerance for the drug, his trips got shorter. He's due for a steep fall," Mallory said with a smile. "He'll be begging for me to help him, you'll see."

In Grissom's eyes, the room was growing darker as the people he loved started to fade and dissipate into swirling wisps of mist. His mind told him that everything that he was experiencing had been a hallucination and dark clouds of depression descended rapidly upon him. He lifted up his right hand and tried to grasp Sara and Rachel but they both faded away just out of his reach. A groan of despair escaped from his cracked lips as he was left alone once again in pain and withdrawal.

As Grissom lifted his eyes to scan the darkly lit room, other figures emerged from the shadows. He shook his head as Mallory approached him, and Grissom stared at him with wild eyes. Suddenly the room seemed crowded with people, all pressing in closer to him, making him claustrophobic. Grissom started pulling in great gulps of breath, trying to get a handle of the overwhelming crush of humanity converging upon him, but this time the people appearing before him were not people he loved but those of victims of cases that he had not been able to solve. Mixed in among them were those people whom he had helped convict and sentence to prison.

The victims from unsolved crimes pointed accusing fingers at him and a high-pitched whine echoed out of their sneering lips. Grissom pressed his back hard against the cold concrete wall as if he could melt into the cement to get away from the apparitions pressing in upon him. A remote part of his brain told him that everything he was experiencing was his mind playing tricks on him. However, his senses were on overload and Grissom could not discern what was real and what was not and stared with huge eyes at his arms where the icy claws of men he had helped bring convictions and send to prison scratched and pulled at him. He tried to pull away in vain but the rough hands continued to reach for him. Panic filled the distraught man and he clawed at his arms to remove the sharp talons digging into his skin.

Mallory grinned at the sight of Grissom scratching desperately at his arms, leaving bloody claw marks on his right arm. His right hand and fingers were swollen and raw from clawing and tearing at the cast that enclosed his left wrist. Whatever unseen monsters Grissom was seeing were clearly terrifying him and he was desperately trying to ward them off. Cries of anguish escaped from Grissom's lips as he sought to escape the demons that were tormenting him.

"Manny, we need to cut that cast off Grissom's wrist," Mallory said after watching the tortured man writhe on the floor.

"What for? It's not like he's going anywhere in that condition," commented Manny, clearly disturbed by what he was seeing.

"He'll be easier to control if we can get him into a straitjacket. As it is, we won't be able to get him into one if he has the cast on his arm," explained Mallory patiently.

"Okay, I guess I can see that, but how the hell are we going to hold him down long enough to cut through that cast?"

"Just hold him down and I'll deal with the cast. I have a blade in the desk that I can saw through that cast. It should be fairly easy to cut through."

Manny warily approached Grissom writhing on the floor against the wall. His unfocused eyes had a wild panicked look to them and Manny wasn't sure how to best subdue him since his own injury was sapping his strength. Taking a deep breath, the young gang member, swiftly pounced on the trembling man and attempted to twist Grissom's left arm behind his back while forcing the man facedown on the ground. However, Grissom apparently had other plans.

As far as Grissom was concerned, there was the crush of a screaming manic mob on top of him, all intent on tearing him to pieces. He fought desperately against the hands that were attempting to take him down. Manny was fighting a losing battle. He was fighting a man who thought he was fighting all the demons of his past. Grissom, despite his injuries, had Manny down on his back within a matter of seconds. He clawed at Manny's eyes, letting out cries of desperation. Grissom felt no pain from his injuries, just the overwhelming panic and hysteria. The adrenaline coursing through his veins gave him such super-human strength so that the young thug did not stand a chance.

Mallory had turned his back to Manny was busy preparing Grissom's last and final dose. He turned around and was temporarily frozen at watching the frenzied action before him. Manny's pain-filled cries snapped Mallory out of his stupor and he jumped in, trying to pull Grissom off the hapless Manny. Grissom turned his frenzied attention to Mallory, swinging his arms wildly. Crawling after Mallory, grabbing at the man's legs, Grissom was growling with anger. Frightened by the mad look in Grissom's eyes, Mallory took two quick steps back away from him.

As far as Mallory could see, nothing was going to slow Grissom down as the man was totally out of control. They had to get him into a straitjacket if they were to have any chance of getting past the law enforcement officers he was sure was waiting outside for them. Right now, though, he had to find a way to slow the crazed man down. Taking out one of the guns he had in his waistband, he swung the gun up and pointed it at Grissom.

Hoping to slow him down, Mallory waved the gun in front of Grissom and demanded, "Grissom, not another step or I'll shoot!"

Grissom staggered to his feet and took a few shambling steps forward. His unfocused eyes darted wildly around Mallory, still seeing maddening forms reaching for him. Grissom dimly heard Mallory's voice telling him to stop but his unseeing eyes never saw the gun pointed at him. Instead he saw Sara and Scott held captive by the apparitions surrounding Mallory. Roaring with rage, Grissom charged Mallory with all the pent up fury within him.

An enraged, totally out of control Grissom was the last thing that Mallory expected. Always before, he had been able to subdue the man, but this raging madman was not the Grissom he had come to expect. Mallory realized too late that he had pushed the man way over the edge and the man charging him was beyond comprehension. Grissom was on top of him before he could react, and the gun discharged as Grissom crashed into him.

******************************************

It had been approximately two hours since the police had invaded the clinic and thoroughly searched the surrounding desert and clinic buildings save the windowless concrete bunker-storage building. Brass had his men stationed at and near the only entrance to the building. The men had their weapons out and were ready for a violent confrontation with at least one hostage involved. They were briefed on what to expect and were under orders that in no way would Mallory be allowed to escape.

Sara paced the outskirts of the west side of the compound. Brass had insisted that she and Scott be detained in away from the building in case things got out of hand. Both of them had protested loudly and angrily, but Brass had prevailed. He had threatened them with having them being escorted back to Goldfield if they didn't comply with his orders.

Catherine, Nick, and Greg had been ordered to stay with both Scott and Sara, not to stay out of the way, but to make sure that the slim impatient brunette and the younger Grissom stayed put. Scott stood defiantly, staring in the direction of the storage building. The night sky was starting to fade to the early light of a new day. The cool of the morning would soon give way to the vast heat of the desert. It would make sense for Mallory to wait for nightfall to come again before making his escape, but, as the law enforcement officers were finding out, the man did not always make the logical or practical decisions. He was hard to predict, but Scott figured that Mallory would want to try an escape before the desert heat became a blazing inferno.

Catherine gently laid a hand on Sara's arm and tried to her.

"Sara, it'll be over soon. Grissom is Mallory's ticket out of here. He'll…." Catherine's words were interrupted by the muffled sound of a gun being shot. A moment later, two more muffled shots were heard. Blood drained from Sara's face as she turned to make her way to the building. Warrick reached out and grabbed her arm.

"No, Sara, not until Brass gives the okay," said Warrick calmly. "Let them do their jobs. There's nothing we can do right now."

Sara gave Warrick a resentful look but nodded her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. Scott stood stock-still; his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Catherine rested a reassuring arm on his shoulder. She could not find the words that would calm the young man down.

The early morning light was gradually chasing the dark night from the sky and cast eerie shadows from the buildings and sparse vegetation in and around the complex. After the reports of the gunshots, dead silence covered the complex like a shroud. The officers had taken cover and had their weapons trained on the only opening to the building.

The silence surrounding the building was finally broken by the sounds of crashing and low moans emanating from behind the closed door. The officers raised their weapons in anticipation of what might come crashing through the doorway.

As the doorknob to the door started to turn, the moans coming from the other side increased and then changed to panicked sobs. The door burst open and a single man staggered through the opening. He held a 9mm Beretta in his hands and pointed it wildly in front of him. His face was bloodied and blood covered his shirt and pants. His eyes bore a wild unfocused look about them.

The dimness of the early morning light made it difficult for Jim Brass to discern whether the disoriented man staggering out of the door was Gil Grissom or Lucas Mallory. The captain felt the tension rise as the officers near him as they waited for the gun-waving man to fire upon them.

Hoping that it was Grissom who was staggering just out the door, Brass called out loudly, "Drop your weapon and no one will get hurt. We just want to help you."

The wild-eyed man waved his gun generally in Brass's direction and cried in a voice Brass didn't recognize as quite human, "Get them off of me. They're eating me alive. Please help me…"

He started to claw at the bloody mess that appeared to be his arms as he sank to his knees. The deputies and officers held their breath as they continued to hold the man in their sights. However, Brass didn't want any mistakes.

"Gentlemen, stay where you are. Let's see if we can disarm him before he hurts anyone. No one is to take any unnecessary risks," ordered Brass in a low voice.

Brass flinched at the gun went off, but apparently the man did not seem to notice that the gun he was holding had just gone off. He continued to rant and wave the gun about. Brass edged closer to get a better a view of the shambling figure just outside the door when a shadow emerged from the recesses of the building. The captain held up his hand high to signal for the officers behind him to hold still. He crept forward closer to see who was emerging from the building right behind the deranged man.

This swaying figure whose hands were clutching the door jamb for balance and support slowly appeared. Brass gave a slight sigh of relief. Though he was covered with blood and was beaten to within an inch of his life, the police detective recognized bloodied figure leaning in the doorway as none other than Gil Grissom.

Grissom staggered through the doorway and lurched toward Mallory who was swaying on his knees. Tackling him from behind, Grissom grappled the man for the gun. The weapon discharged again, and Mallory slowed his motions and loosened his grip on the gun. Grissom rolled off of him and managed to rest on his knees next to him.

Grissom was gasping for breath with both his hands resting on his knees. With the gun in his right hand, Grissom pointed the gun point-blank at his victim.

Brass, relieved to see Grissom alive, called out urgently, "Hey, Gil. It's Jim…Gil, can you hear me? I need you to put the gun down. Gil, you need to put the gun down."

The voices in his head were growing louder, and all Grissom wanted was for the voices to stop and for all the people around him to disappear. With the gun shaking, groans of misery escaped from Grissom's lips. Pain was starting to re-assert itself and waves of nausea were making him dizzy. He lifted his head and blinked to focus his eyes. He heard Brass's voice, but it was as if it was from a distance. Grissom swung his head around to track the voice that intermingled with the ones in his head.

Brass held his breath as Grissom lifted his head upon hearing his voice. The gun was still pointing at who Brass now recognized as Mallory now that the light was better. The police detective did not like the unfocused wildness in his friend's eyes and sought to find the words to bring Grissom back to reality.

"Gil, over here. Yeah, it's me…It's okay now. We're here. Sara and Scott…"

"Sara and Scott…th…they're here? Safe…they're safe?" gasped Grissom as another wave of pain washed over him. "I don't believe you…He…Mallory is trying to trying to trick me. You're not real…just another trick."

Before the officers or Brass could react, Grissom turned his attention to the Mallory lying on the ground and pumped another round into the body. Before he could take another breath, two officers had sprung from their hiding places and had Grissom face down on the ground. Brass rushed over and kicked away the gun that had fallen on the ground.

"Gently boys. Be gentle with him," ordered Brass softly. "Let him rest against the wall over there and check out his injuries. Don't cuff him. Just take care of him, okay?"

The police captain paused as he watched the officers gently move a compliant Grissom to sit against the wall. Brass was immediately on his cell.

"Catherine, get Sara and Scott down here, pronto. Gil's alive, but he's not doing well. Order that ambulance."

Brass took a couple of steps and crouched down next to Mallory.

"He's dead, sir," said the deputy who was checking out the body. "I not the coroner, but he had more than the bullet wound Grissom pumped into him at the end. He sustained one during the struggle and it looks like he had a wound in his side. I noticed a needle mark in his shoulder," continued the deputy as he pointed to the spot.

Brass nodded and stood up. Sheriff Taylor and one of his deputies emerged from the building. "There's another body in there. Looks like all hell broke through in there."

Brass nodded and walked back over to where Grissom was being attended to by two of the SWAT officers. The police captain looked up in time to see Sara burst around the corner with Scott not far behind. She stood for a moment, surveying the area until she saw Grissom with the officers attending to him.

Relief and panic flooded over her as she rushed over to the injured man. Brass was speaking gently to the bewildered man as he was still clearly agitated. It took two of the officers to hold the man down. Despite the pain and his injuries, Grissom was still fighting the demons that only he could see.

Brass moved aside to let Sara in closer to Grissom. She reached forward and gently took his head in both her hands and forced him to face her. She spoke gently to him and the crazed look in his eyes started to fade as her voice penetrated through the voices in his head. His writhing slowed, but he continued to gasp for breath. Gulping great mouthfuls of air, Grissom kept his eyes on Sara as she continued to gently stroke his face, calming the man down.

Sara looked up at the officers holding Grissom down and nodded to them, saying, "It's okay. He'll be okay."

The officers nodded although doubt was still in their eyes. They slowly released their grip on Grissom as they felt the man gradually relax. They took their time standing up and taking a step back.

Sara released Grissom's face and quickly ran her hands over his body, checking for additional injuries. It appeared that he had suffered another gunshot wound and was given at least three shots from the three injection sites she found. He was bleeding from the gunshot wound which was located in his lower right chest area. Numerous contusions and bruises covered his face, arms, and hands.

"Hey, Brass, where are those paramedics? Grissom's fading fast," Sara yelled.

"They're here Sara," Brass said as he pulled her away to allow the paramedics in to do their jobs.

Scott watched intently as the EMT's worked on his father. They quickly assessed his condition and had applied a pressure bandage to the new chest wound. Dr. Ken Jones was brought to Grissom by Detective Vartann.

"What do you say, Doc?" asked Mike Soto, one of the paramedics. "He's in bad shape. I don't think he'll make by ambulance and it'll take too long to get a medivac helicopter here."

Ken Jones sat back on his haunches. "There's an infirmary in the next building. I can get him stabilized until we can get a chopper up here."

"Let's do it then. We don't have time to waste," said Mike.

Grissom was moved quickly onto a stretcher and taken to the clinic's infirmary. Jones and the paramedics worked on stabilizing the man's condition. They were able to slow the bleeding, but Jones was worried about the amount of blood he was losing. Inserting an IV, Jones started a saline solution to replace some of the fluid that Grissom had lost. Checking the man's vitals, Jones was satisfied that Grissom would hold his own until they could airlift him to Desert Palm Hospital.

Meeting Sara and Scott outside the infirmary doors, Jones informed them of Grissom's condition.

"He's stabilized for now. He should be okay to transport as soon as the chopper is here. Sara, Scott, physically, he should recover just fine. He'll have a long road ahead of him as far as the drug dependency goes and the psychological damage my cousin inflicted upon him," said Jones to both of them.

"Well, with Mallory taken care of and the disk that Nick and Warrick found in the storage building, hopefully, you will be able to more effectively treat Gil's addiction. I believe the other problems he'll face will be easier to deal with once he can have some control."

Jones nodded in agreement. Scott glanced at his step-father gratefully and asked quietly, "Can we go in and see him?"

"He won't know that you're there, but sure go ahead," Jones said with a smile.

Sara smiled wanly, the long day finally taking a toll on her. She took Scott's hand and pulled him into the infirmary.

"C'mon Scott. It has been an extraordinarily long day, and both of us need to see that your dad is going to be okay."

Ken Jones watched the two of them disappear into the infirmary and smiled. With the support of his family and friends, Jones was confident that Grissom would recover just fine.


	47. Chapter 47epilogue

_**Journey Through the Past- Epilogue**_

_Eight months later:_

The lone figure stood on the pier watching a brilliant red-gold sunset over the Pacific Ocean. The man watched the gentle waves lap against the moorings below him as he leaned upon the wooden railing taking in the sight before him and the peaceful feelings that only the ocean could give.

Smiling wanly to himself, he felt the presence of the young man strolling to the end of the pier. It had been a long eight months, and the young man with short wavy brown curls and brilliant blue eyes had spent almost every minute of that eight-month long journey with him. Grissom looked down at his feet, grateful that for this moment he could share with his son. He still wasn't sure what the future held for him, but he knew for sure that he wouldn't be spending that future alone.

"Hey, you okay?" Scott asked softly as he laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

"Better than okay," said Grissom, looking at his son with a bright smile. "Just remembering how much your mother enjoyed the ocean. This where we first met, you know."

"Yeah, you told me…many times," Scott said with a wide grin.

"We shared our first kiss here too. We shared a lot of things here," said Grissom softly not really intending for Scott to hear as his gaze returned to the sunset.

"We brought you here when you were a baby, barely six months old," he said a little louder.

Looking at his son, Grissom smirked, "Your mother was somewhat disappointed that you weren't agog over the ocean. Instead, you were fascinated with a couple of ladybugs that happen to light onto your hands. She claimed that I was a bad influence."

Scott grinned back, "I was only six months old! What did she expect?"

Sighing, Grissom turned his attention back to the gently rolling waves. "We met after I earned my degree in biology at UCLA. We didn't marry until I came back here and was a coroner for LA County. Your mom decided to become a CSI even though she had a degree in marine biology. She felt that we should share careers so that we could grow closer. I think that I regret that more than anything about our life together. She loved the ocean so much."

Scott nodded to show that he understood. "She would have liked that you remembered that about her- that you're returning her to what she loved the most with who she loved the most."

Grissom arched his eyebrows at his son. "A bit sappy, don't you think?"

Scott grinned, "Maybe so, but both you and Mom, I'd like to think that you were both romantics at heart."

Grissom smiled and shook his head slightly, "Did you bring the urn?"

Scott nodded and reached down into the backpack he had set down by his feet. He carefully pulled out the bronze urn that was filled with his mother's ashes. The young man handed the urn to his father.

Carefully holding the urn on top of the rail, Grissom caressed the metal tenderly and worked the lid off the container.

With tears glistening in his eyes, Grissom whispered, "You were my first love. Our time together was too short, but times that I will always treasure. We have a wonderful son together who seems to have inherited the best parts of you. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you…that I didn't, couldn't save you in the end, but please know this, I love you and there's a part of my heart that will always be yours."

With that, father and son scattered the remains of Rachel Grissom upon the ocean she loved so much.

Gently taking the urn and lid from his father, Scott softly touched his father's arm. "Take all the time you need. Sara and I will be waiting for you down by the car."

Grissom looked at his son with grateful eyes and then smiled softly, "Thanks. I'll only be a few minutes. I…I just want to say good-bye."

Grissom took a moment to watch his son stroll slowly back towards Sara who was waiting for him with open arms at the end of the pier. They hugged briefly and slowly made their way to the parking lot and to the car.

Left alone, Grissom turned back to view the ocean in the descending twilight and to contemplate the events of the last year and a half. It had be a long and difficult road to travel. He was finally beginning to feel whole again, but Grissom knew that he still had a ways to go.

Grissom had a handle on the physical addiction to the street drug that was known as "Spider." He smiled ruefully at the irony that a new generation of street drug should be named after arachnids. Mallory had loved the irony of naming a drug that Grissom had been the guinea pig for experimentation. The drug was aptly named because it ensnared its victim into a web of addiction after just a few doses. After discovering exactly what Grissom had been given, along with cocaine, heroin, and PCP, Ken Jones had researched and experimented with the chemical properties of the drug which was derived from a species of plant only grown in the Amazon rainforest. How Mallory was able to develop the drug or get his hands on any of the plants was anyone's guess.

Through Ken Jones' ministrations, Grissom's body was still being weaned from the devastating affects of the drug. It had taken the better part of the last six months for Grissom to tolerate the gradual lessening of the synthetic substitute that Jones had developed to replace "Spider." For Grissom, slight tremors and a gradually worsening headache similar to a migraine were the signals for him to take the medication that Jones had developed. The length of time between withdrawal episodes was gradually lengthening and as Grissom watched the peaceful scenery before him, he knew that he should make his way back to the rental car before the headache that was tickling the back of his head got any worse.

Grissom thought back eight months ago when he woke up at Desert Palm Hospital. Dr. Taylor's smiling face was there to greet him as he groggily opened his eyes and tried to remember what had happened to him.

"Some patients are really hard to get rid of. Grissom, this is really getting old," said Dr. Taylor softly with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Grissom shut his eyes, groaning, "Not again. Tell me that I'm not here again."

""Fraid so buddy. You can't seem to stay away from here, but the good news is that you are infinitely better off than when they brought you here the last time."

The good doctor had informed him that he had been in the hospital two days this time around and that his condition was stable. He had suffered a gunshot wound the lower right quadrant of his chest. The bullet had nicked his right lung, compromising his breathing. They had been able to repair the damage, but his very sore cracked ribs were now broken but were on the mend. His left wrist had been protected by the cast, but someone had obviously tried to do a half-assed job of taking it off. Fortunately it had not suffered any further damage. Grissom would have debated the doctor on that point but so many other parts of his body were sore that he decided to forego that argument.

Grissom, initially, had disjointed memories of what had happened that night. At first he had a hard time discerning what had been real and what had been hallucinations brought about by "Spider". Gradually, through interviews with Brass, Catherine, Sara, and Ken Jones, what had happened in the storage building prior to Mallory staggering out in a drug-induced haze was slowly pieced together.

Apparently, Mallory was smart enough to figure out that the police would most likely be staking out the building. In any case, he knew getting away would not be an easy task. The escaped convict wanted a very pliable Grissom to control and use as a hostage. That meant doping Grissom up with "Spider" so that he could easily be controlled. The plan had worked up to the point. Grissom's trip had been an extremely bad one. As Manny and Mallory were trying to cut the cast off his left wrist so that they could bound him in a straitjacket, Grissom had been able to fight off both men. It didn't help that both men were wounded, but, nevertheless, Grissom was virtually unstoppable because of the surge of adrenalin fueled by the demons he was visualizing.

Evidently, in the struggle that ensued, Grissom had stabbed Mallory with the syringe that was meant for him. Mallory, in a panic, had tried shooting Grissom, striking Manny instead and killing him. Mallory managed to pull the syringe out, but not before more than half that dose had emptied into him. Grissom charged Mallory and was shot for his effort as he tackled Mallory. Though he had been shot, Grissom managed to wrestle the gun away as the two men struggled with the half empty syringe. The result was that the syringe somehow ended up piercing Grissom.

By then, Mallory was experiencing his own bout with the drug and was hallucinating. All thoughts of escaping from the police vanished as his own demons were pursuing him as evidenced by his behavior when he emerged from the building. Grissom had vague memories of finding the gun and staggering out the door to catch up with Mallory. From that point on, Grissom could only remember Sara suddenly appearing before him, her hands gently caressing his face and calming him down. Grissom was not aware that he had shot and killed Mallory until Brass had shared that information with him. The senior investigator was not sure how he felt about killing Mallory except for the overwhelming relief that his nemesis had been taken care of.

Grissom took a deep cleansing breath. He rubbed his left wrist to relieve some the achiness that crept in. His headache was worsening and he knew that he should make his way to where Sara and Scott were waiting so that he could take his medication.

Still, he wasn't quite ready to leave the pier. Regrets and guilt still plagued him, even though he knew that he had little control over the events that changed his life so long ago. The niggling thought that if he had been more aware or more protective of Rachel and Scott all of this could have been prevented. The blame belonged to Mallory, but still Grissom carried the burden of guilt for not protecting his young wife and child so many years ago. He shook his head in disgust. Gazing up at the sinking red-gold sun, Gil Grissom knew that he had to move forward. Otherwise, Mallory would still have a hold on him, and he would be stuck in the past. He could regret and miss the years lost or he could build a new life with his son and with a woman, who despite knowing that she was competing with a ghost, was willing to wait for him.

Straightening up, he glanced down at the gentle splash of the waves against the pier. With tears glistening in his eyes, Grissom said a silent farewell to Rachel. Turning, he walked slowly down the pier towards his future.

*************************************

A/N: Well, that's it folks. I hope that you enjoyed it. A special thank you to the following: Moonstarer-for encouraging me in the first place to write and then nagging (in a good way) to finish it, Kalsan- for the incredible encouragement, analytical reviews (which helped tremendously), CSIGeekFan for the early Beta and encouragement, ChiChiJellyBean for the encouragement and suggestions, SylvieT (even though I have been terrible about reviewing lately) for her reviews and encouragement. I am absolutely sure that I forgot a lot of you out there. Please forgive me. There are numerous others out there who were faithful to the story. Thanks to all of you who stuck with the story and were patient with me. I will be forever appreciative and grateful.

becky


End file.
